Skin Of Their Teeth
by Mardy Lass
Summary: Set after 2x16 ‘The Locket’. Some things are unavoidable: death, taxes, toothache and bloodthirsty pirates who track, plunder and murder. Aren’t pirate problems as easy to fix as teeth? It wouldn’t be Farscape if they were. Rated T for language/s.
1. Chapter 1

**ONE**

.

Aeryn came to a stop under the awning, flicking the rain from her shoulders with her thick Peacekeeper gloves. "Come on," she said confidently, "I've got the rest of it. All we have to do it get it into the transport pod."

When there was no reply she looked up at the human next to her, also sheltering from the heavy rain. John's mouth was sealed shut in an 'o' shape and his jaw slid from side to side as he apparently studied the rained-out alley in front of him, but something about the way his eyebrows were in charge of all frowning duty told Aeryn he wasn't actually seeing anything at all.

"Crichton?" she prompted, knocking his elbow with hers.

He blinked in surprise and looked at her. "Yes. Right. Got it," he nodded quickly. "You get the water, too?"

"Techbots are loading the dry food for us, we'll have to get the water in ourselves," she said.

"Let's go then - this place is a little too moist for me," he grunted.

She watched him walk round her and off, the steadily hammering rain bouncing off his head and the adopted black Peacekeeper jacket currently keeping him warm in the less than comfortable climate. She sniffed and let her hand wander over her pulse pistol attached to her right leg, stepping out into the rain.

She caught him up as they reached the docking bay. Wire-thin robots with four arms each were lifting and craning fifty crates into the empty area of the transport pod, zipping backwards and forwards with unexpected agility.

The two aliens ducked inside out of the hissing rain, John making an effort to shake his head, Labrador style, to rid himself of a little precipitation. All he succeeded in doing was making his spiky sopping hair stick up further and his ears drip like badly maintained air-conditioners.

He stopped to watch the robots at work, hearing Aeryn stop behind him.

"So where's our water?" he asked, putting a hand up to his jaw and rubbing the side suddenly.

"The blue crates," she said, nodding to the four of them on the far side.

"Just four?"

"That's all we could afford - it's not cheap you know."

"Bet it don't grow on trees, either," he allowed, letting his hand drop and walking over to the first crate. "At least we're out of the rain."

A head shot up from behind the stack of blue crates. Something black swung up. It cracked into John's head. He staggered back. Aeryn snatched up her pistol. The figure from behind the crate grasped at a buckle on the front of John's jacket, taking a good hold.

John blinked tearing, shocked eyes to realise something was pushing into his front.

"Son of a bitch," he managed with indignation. He put his hand up to his jaw, pressing. "You had to hit me _there_, right?"

"Shut up!"

"Let him go," Aeryn commanded.

John wiped at an eye so he could see, his nose and jaw still burning with pain from the impact. He found a short, snub-nosed gun pressed into his chest and some short, no-nosed alien holding onto his jacket. He looked down at it: long limbed, scaly green, black coveralls and grumpy. Definitely grumpy.

"How much is he worth?" the alien hissed, tiny holes over its face opening and closing quickly in some kind of concerted effort.

"Not that much. Let him go," Aeryn snapped angrily, her aim never wavering.

"Not that much?" John echoed. "Thanks!"

"Shut up," the alien rasped, pushing the gun more firmly into his front. "I could shoot you, Peacekeeper, and find a good use for all that leather you're wearing."

"You want my leathers? Take 'em," he snorted. "They're not even mine. Hell, I don't even have my bike any more."

"What do you want?" Aeryn called clearly.

"You're Peacekeepers. You must have a weapons stash on that transport shuttle you're loading. I couldn't find it - you show me where it is," the alien ordered.

John began to laugh, thick but high-pitched, making Aeryn frown.

"Sorry," he managed, still chuckling. "We don't have any more weapons, Greedo, so unless you're gonna shoot us where we stand, we're all going to be here a good long while."

Aeryn rolled her eyes and simply fired.

The shot flew so closely over John's shoulder that he could swear the leather jacket itself winced in fear. He heard the thunk and sizzle of impact and turned quickly.

The alien was already dropping to the cold stone floor, lifeless. John stepped back quickly.

"Uh… thanks," he managed. He put his hand up and massaged his jaw slowly. "I think."

"Just get the water. He might not have been alone."

"Right," John swallowed. He put a boot round the fallen criminal and reached for the first crate, turning to the transport. "R2 units have finished," he observed.

Aeryn appeared next to him, hefting a crate and turning to see. "Fast workers. Makes a change."

"Uh…" John dropped the crate he had, edging slightly round Aeryn so that she was pushed up the lip and into the pod.

"What are you doing?" she protested.

"Maybe you should start the pod," he said nervously, and she looked round his shoulder to see three more lizard like aliens entering the large docking bay.

"You do it. I'll keep them away from the ship," she ordered. She put a hand out and grabbed his shoulder, yanking him back and then pushing him up the incline of the pod a tiny way. "Go!"

He disappeared up the loading ramp and she edged the blue crate up and over the lip, watching the aliens surreptitiously. She heard the engines start to spin and whine and stepped back slowly, gripping the doors to close them.

One alien called something and hurried over to their fallen colleague. Aeryn aimed her pistol at the nearest one as the pod began to lift. As one, the three of them turned and spotted her, drawing weapons. The pod lifted from the ground just as the first shot was fired.

Aeryn pulled the doors to but fired back. One of the aliens ceased firing. The others took over. She slammed the doors shut and sealed them off, hurrying round to the control deck. John was already trying to navigate them through the small twists and turns of the docking lanes.

Aeryn jumped into the empty command chair and helped manoeuvre the small craft. Neither of them said a word as they broke free of the designated lanes and rose up from the cloud of rain and smog, heading for the upper atmosphere, and beyond it, Moya.

.

* * *

.

"You got real growing stuff?" Chiana grinned, opening a crate and poking her head in. "Cool!"

"What?" Rygel protested, floating over on his tiny chair to peek in too. "What do you mean, it's still growing? I want my food ready and waiting to be eaten, not sitting there taunting me with its dirty un-processed-ness!"

"A contala plant," D'Argo put in, a few crates away. "Aeryn, you have outdone yourself."

"Is that good?" she hazarded, wiping her hands clean on a rag as she watched them pore over her purchases.

"I shall have some contala tea ready for everyone before long," D'Argo continued, and he did indeed seem well pleased.

"I just thought that getting the bushes and trees would be better than dead dry foods - that way if we looked after them, we could keep getting food from them," Aeryn offered.

"Well I think it was a marvellous idea," came a gentle voice, and Aeryn looked down to find Zhaan stroking the leaves of a small, wide red plant, a beatific smile on her face. "Forward thinking becomes you."

"You're just happy to have relatives who possess a similar IQ to your own on board," Rygel tutted, before steering his chair round and disappearing from the room.

"Officer Sun. You mentioned some trouble leaving the planet," Pilot interrupted slowly. "Do you believe us to be safe from further attacks?"

"It's hard to say, Pilot," she answered. "But I would think so." She looked around the transport hold slowly. "Pilot, where's Crichton?"

"The Commander is back in his quarters. It seems he is not at all interested in the supplies you bought."

"Hmm. Oh - we only got one crate of water, due to those people trying to shoot us. We do have enough for the next solar week, but we should start looking for another commerce planet," she sighed.

"I shall see to it straight away," Pilot chirped.

"Was John hurt in the altercation?" Zhaan asked suddenly from her place among the red bushes.

"I don't think so," Aeryn blinked. "He seemed fine helping me unload all this stuff."

"Well did you check?" Chiana pressed, with a little more concern than the former Peacekeeper found acceptable.

"What am I, his mother?" she shot back. She turned to the door, thought about it, and left the hangar quietly.

.

* * *

.

"Goddamn - _use_less--" John huffed, bending to another not very well hidden cupboard by his knees and hauling it open. "You'd think in this big galley thing there'd be just _one_ little particle of something resembling a painkiller or--"

"What _are_ you doing?"

John froze and thought about the voice. Judging it to be Aeryn's he straightened up slowly. He turned and rested back on the large wraparound counter top, adopting a rather too casual lean.

"Uh - nothing," he shrugged. But as he folded his arms one of his shoulders twitched, only emphasising the guilty way his chin was tilted a little high.

Aeryn's eyes narrowed. "Right," she allowed scathingly, sparing him one last look before walking from the doorway and toward the centre console. She opened a flap and looked in to see what was edible. "Did you forget something?" she added expectantly.

John didn't move, still watching her and doing his best to radiate innocence from every pore.

"Probably. It's a side effect of living on this ship," he replied guardedly.

"You got all excited about those small brown edible bricks when we were on the surface, but as soon as they were in the cargo hold you forgot about them. I'd be surprised if Rygel hasn't tasted one or two by now." She picked a few assorted cubes and set them on a tray, pushing them into the hatch and closing the lid.

"Let him. If he dies, I'll know not to eat them," John allowed. He watched her walk to the far table and sit slowly.

"Have you eaten? Or are you going to pester me while I eat this?" she asked carefully.

"No. I'm good. Enjoy," he said quickly.

She turned, her mouth open to ask after his mood, but he was already crossing the room and disappearing out of the doorway.

She looked back at her tray, picking up a large green cube and biting it thoughtfully. Then she shook her head and let it go.

.

* * *

.

"I notice you were upset when we found him dead," the taller, green alien sneered.

The shorter female didn't even let her many orifices flutter in indignation. Instead she turned and looked up at the male member of the pirate crew, letting her head tilt slightly in consideration.

"You want to be Captain, yes?" she hissed.

"Everyone on board does," he grunted, cautiously noncommittal.

"You are not exactly a thinker, Pajjet," she challenged. "If you want to kill the Captain and take charge, I can help you."

The taller male let all of the holes over his head ripple with the sharp intake of breath. He let his slightly webbed hands drop from the console in front of him and leaned closer to the slightly-built female.

"And why," he hissed quietly, "would you want to do that?"

The female pulled in a long, languid breath, loathe to reveal her nervousness.

"I want those two Peacekeepers who killed him. I know which ship they went back to, and I know where that ship was headed when it left," she allowed. "What I don't know is if the present Captain would help me follow them."

"And… if there were a new Captain?" Pajjet asked, his wide, frog-like mouth bending into a curve that could have passed for a smile on a more appropriate face.

"We could find them, I could have the two Peacekeepers, and the new Captain could take all the spoils from the ship - and the ship itself," she sniffed, affecting indifference.

"Hmm," Pajjet nodded slowly. "That would be agreeable. To anyone wanting to become the new Captain."

"I should imagine it would. Should anyone decide to get some backbone… they could do worse than come to me," she nodded.

.

* * *

_**See? I told you I'd be doing another one... Thanks for reading. :)**_


	2. Chapter 2

**TWO**

.

Chiana paused as she passed the closed door, detecting a strange sound. She swept closer to the large gaps in the door, slanting her head and pushing it to a beam by the bulkhead, listening.

A long, sighed groan echoed round the room and she was torn between calling it mournful and exhaustion, if the latter were caused by a three-solar-day bender including sixteen barrels of raslak and two dozen assorted glendian pleasure workers with special skills.

"Crichton?" she called. The noise stopped. She pasted on her best false cheer. "Are you doing what I think you're doing in there?"

It was silent for a long moment. She opened her mouth but paused again to listen.

_Groan._

"Ok! Have fun! If…_"_

_Groan._

"… you need…"

_Groan._

"… a hand with anything, just…"

_Groan._

"… let me--"

"_Pip!_"

She jumped slightly, unprepared for the shockingly loud blast of super-heated anger that shot the syllable from the human and out in all directions.

"You… ah… ok?" she managed, manoeuvring to try and see through the door.

"_GO. AWAY._"

The volume and thickness of John's voice surprised her again. She gulped, nodded, and stepped away from the door, shaking her head and mumbling resentfully as she carried on down the corridor.

She turned the corner and almost flew into Aeryn.

"Ah! Just the person I need!" she gasped, bouncing back quickly.

Aeryn just looked at her. "What is it?"

"I don't know, but--"

"What's going on?" Aeryn interrupted. "No, let me re-phrase that: What's Crichton done now?"

"He's in his room, and he's making this strange noise. I tried to help but it sounds like he's gone completely kinkoid."

Aeryn's eyebrows raised and she folded her arms slowly. "And what do you want me to do about it?"

"Talk to him. Or… just make him stop that noise?"

"What noise?"

Chiana swallowed and let her eyes range around the corridor before avoiding the taller woman's gaze admirably. "It gives me… thoughts," she admitted breathlessly, before brushing past Aeryn and carrying on down the corridor.

Aeryn sighed and made her arms drop. She walked on and turned the corner, hearing some strange shuffling noises and the occasional groan before stopping at the door.

"Crichton?" she called.

Silence rained down with the weight of being ignored, and she reached out and pushed at the large button. The door fanned open slowly and she took a step inside.

"Crichton? Where are you?" she asked, looking round the empty room and biting a lip. There was a slight noise that may or may not have come from the human. She straightened her shoulders and walked confidently to the back of the room, coming to the tall shower surround. She raised a hand and banged at it.

Silence.

"Crichton?" she dared. "Look, I don't want to know what you're doing in there, I just came to tell you that Pilot's found a planet where we can buy water, and--"

Something moved behind the blind and she heard water running. She folded her arms and then heard a sniff as the water stopped. She opened her mouth but more movement behind the screen hijacked her concentration. She tried again, going to the open edge. She felt him push past her and belatedly took a step back, turning to watch him cross the room, full-clothed, as he headed for the open door.

"Crichton?"

"Yeah. Water. Yeah. Buy. Yeah. Great," he called over his shoulder, with clearly no intention of stopping.

She caught him up and grabbed his arm, yanking to pull him round.

"Now just hang on a microt," she began angrily. "I--"

She paused, surprised at his face. It looked red, freshly splashed but with the tell-tale signs of sweat in the hair behind his ears. She forced herself to stop appreciating the attractive pout he was aiming her way and that was when she noticed something else.

"It's fine," he blustered, trying to pull his arm free. "Tell me when we get there and I'll meet you at the transport pod."

She gripped his wrist more tightly, refusing to let him leave. "Crichton. What's the matter with your face?"

He pulled still but she stood her ground. He stopped struggling and looked round at the open door.

"I'm just going to--"

"No. You're not," she said clearly. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing!" he smiled, turning back to look at her. But his left eye twitched and his smile suddenly looked less cheerful and more desperate.

She put her hand up slowly and grasped his jaw to turn it. He jumped.

"Ow! God_damn_ it, Aeryn!" he snarled.

She let go, surprised at his fury. He took a step back, clutching his jaw. He squeezed his eyes shut so tightly she wondered if his eye balls had been sucked back into his skull. When John realised there had been no sound for a few moments, he let them open again guiltily.

"Ah… Sorry," he said in a small voice.

"Bone trouble?" she asked scathingly.

"Tooth."

"Tooth?" she asked, confused. "Just one?"

"Just one. It was… it was feeling funny before we went for supplies. Then that lizard dude hit it and now it feels like Vesuvius is going off every time blood pulses through it."

"Is that bad?" she asked, taking in the slight redness to his eyes, the twitches in his arm every few seconds.

"Not so much," he bluffed, letting his hand drop.

"Oh really," she scoffed. She put her hand to his jaw again, gently this time. "Let me look."

"No, Aeryn, I said it's--"

"Just let me--"

"Let go! I said it's fine--"

"Crichton!"

"Aeryn!"

"Let me look or I apply a PanTak Jab to the other side of your face and drag you off to Zhaan!"

"Don't you even--"

She fetched him a glancing blow to his midriff. He gasped in shock, bending slightly. She grasped his chin and levered his mouth open, peering in.

"Where?" she asked, wrenching him round to aid her inspection. She tutted. "Tongue."

Recognising he was beaten, his tongue moved to one side and she found herself looking at a swollen red balloon of a gum, barely able to hold on to the cracked, angry tooth atop.

"Frell," she blinked, impressed. "That looks… serious."

She let go and just watched him. He closed his mouth and his mournful eyes swept to the floor.

"We need to get someone to look at that," she said quietly.

"No!" he cried. "I mean… Well, it's not that bad, and I can always--"

"Crichton!" she argued. Then she paused, noticing the way his tilted head was drooping slightly as it made sure his eyes went past her. She took a deep breath and let it out steadily. "John," she tried again, her voice as soft as she could make it go.

He still didn't look at her. But at least his eyes shifted to her boots.

"We'll go down and get water. At the same time, we'll get a medic to look at that," she stated calmly.

"It's not important," he shrugged.

"It's painful. And it's just one tooth." She put her hand out on his arm, squeezing just a tad. "If you don't want to go by yourself, I'll--"

"Water," he said confidently, pulling free of her grip. "Water's the important thing."

"Fine," she said quickly. "We'll just go for the water. But if there's a medic around you may as well just go in. He'll probably demand you make an appointment and throw you out anyway," she nodded.

"Yeah. Probably," he allowed, appearing slightly more amenable. "Yeah."

.

* * *

.

Pajjet handed the cargo manifest to the Captain, waiting for the inevitable order to pursue the larger, richer vessel.

"That's all. Go," the smaller Captain grunted.

Pajjet blinked in confusion, the many small round gills in his head fluttering with concern.

"But… That ship is worth its weight in pure carronus gems," he protested. _Laden so full I'm surprised their crew have room to bathe._

"It's not enough," the Captain said firmly. "Leave me."

"But it's a flying vault!"

"Don't make me shoot you," the Captain snarled.

Pajjet stepped closer to the older Sidpimtinian, lowering his voice. "Sir… We need a quick raid, a fast acquisition of valuables. We're flying with close to no fuel and some of the crew are worried about the food stores--"

"I hear you, Pajjet," the Captain said, placing a scaly hand of slightly webbed digits on the younger Sidpimtinian's shoulder. "But that barge is probably concealing weapons. It would be a fine raid, to be sure, but I'll not risk this crew for it. We'll get the next one," he allowed, patting firmly.

Pajjet considered this news. Then he nodded, stepping away and disappearing from the command deck. He strode quickly to his own quarters, determined to rein in the anger until he was relatively alone.

Reaching his door he slammed it open and closed, pacing his small cabin in fury.

"Weakling fargahk!" he cursed. "We could have taken that ship and stripped it in under a solar day. Fargahk!"

He paused, thinking. "_I_ would have done. _I_ would have ordered the crew over there, taken the ship, killed their crew and taken every single little item of worth." He straightened. "If I had been Captain."

He turned swiftly and opened his door again, looking left and right before heading off, deeper into the ship.

.

* * *

.

"Yes, I understand that," Aeryn said with the last vestige of patience. "But it's just one minor check and some medication. It shouldn't take more than half an arn."

"And you are a qualified dental technician, are you?" came the squeaky voice from the comms board.

"Not at all. But it looks to me like--"

"Then I do not see how you could pronounce the task so slight."

"Look. He's a paying customer. He has money. Understand? Money and a tooth problem. You fix the frelling tooth, he pays you money. Which bit about 'simple job for ready currency' do you not understand?" she snapped.

There was a silence. Aeryn leaned on the comms board, both hands ready to snap the edges off in frustration.

"And he is Sebacean?"

"Near enough."

"And he has ready currency?"

"For the fourth time, _yes_."

"Then… make sure he is ready for the work. I do not wish to be frelled about."

"Thank you!" she cried. "I'll--"

There was a slight beep and she realised she had been cut off.

"I'm sorry, Officer Sun - the connection has been lost," Pilot said cheerfully.

"Yes, I gathered that," she tutted. She straightened off the board. "Where is Crichton?"

"He is in his quarters," Pilot supplied. "Will he be pleased you have done this for him, and saved him time and effort?"

"He doesn't know I've done it - and you're not going to tell him," she said forcefully.

"I do not understand."

"The last thing I need is him finding out I've set up an appointment with the only dental medic I could find on this mud ball we're going to. Please, Pilot, do _not_ tell him it's set up."

"Why not?"

"He thinks we're going to walk in and the medic is going to throw him out again. If he realises for one second that he actually has an appointment, he's going to run so fast his legs will catch fire," she sighed, troubled.

"Why would he do that?" Pilot gasped. "Does he not want the problem fixed?"

"I think he's hoping that if he ignores it, it'll go away."

"That is not like Commander Crichton."

"No, it's not," Aeryn mused. "Maybe humans are funny about teeth. Peacekeepers don't have problems with them - or if they do, they just get them ripped out and replaced."

"Perhaps, as you say, it is a psychological problem limited to humans," Pilot agreed.

.

* * *

.

Pajjet looked up from his desk as the door to his cabin opened.

The shorter, more devious female Sidpimtinian walked in, a broad slit in her face that passed for a smile.

"It is done. _Captain_," she oiled, inclining her head out of respect.

Two more Sidpimtinians entered the cabin behind her, straightening their shoulders and saluting Pajjet respectfully.

"I thank you for your loyalty and reliability in this matter," he said, well pleased. "My first order of business - to find that Peacekeeper transport and its mothership, and strip it of every valuable item we can find."

.

.


	3. Chapter 3

**THREE**

.

Aeryn's breath steamed as she lugged the penultimate crate of water into the transport pod. She kept a surreptitious eye on the human across the last crate, noticing how red in the face he had become once bending and lifting had been introduced to his day.

She slid the last crate in and waited for him to back down the ramp. He turned in the cold air, lifting his gloved hands, about to blow on them. He thought better of it as he caught Aeryn watching him.

"So. Shall we go and get you kicked out of the medic's office?" she dared.

He sniffed. "Well… We got the water. We should get that back to Moya first--"

"Don't start," she tutted.

"But it's _freezing_ down here," he protested.

"It's only one or two below frost point," Aeryn shrugged. "Not too bad."

"Says the girl who's allergic to humidity," he grunted.

"Ok then," she said reasonably, folding her arms and forcing calm where there was frustration, "we'll go back to Moya and you can curl up and die painfully slowly. Does that sound like a better plan?"

He let his hands drop. "How about we go back to Moya and _you_ pull it out," he offered.

"I'm not a medic."

"You don't have to be - all you got to do is yank the damn thing out of my head! It'll be easy!"

"You know, for a male you can be surprisingly… _weak_--"

"I'm just not in the mood to stand around on some ice planet of the Hoth system while some strange little weirdo alien pokes around--"

"Down here _you're_ the alien."

"Whatever! I hate the cold and I hate medics!"

"And I hate it when men whine," she said firmly. "Come on."

She turned and stalked off. John huffed before one eye twitched shut in pain. He let his shoulders sag and simply followed.

The street was awash with people bundled up against the cold, hurrying all over. They were all a great deal shorter than the two aliens dressed as Peacekeepers as they wended their way through the throng.

"Look - there's a sign," Aeryn said, pointing ahead.

A large neon affair was hanging from an awning, swinging precariously as it advertised names and rates of various medical procedures.

"Notice how he needs to advertise," John observed snidely.

"He'll have heat."

"He'd better. I'm freezing my _cojones_ off here."

Aeryn spared his lower half a glance as they approached the door. "We'll be quick. Then you and I will get back to Moya so fast it'll make your head spin. Then you can rub your co-ho's knees warm again," she added, before realising how eager she sounded for him to get in the clinic.

John paused and looked at her, and for a moment she could have sworn he was biting back a laugh. "You going to help me with that?" he grinned.

She eyed him, sensing a deeper meaning. She shook her head to dismiss the moment. "Just go."

He pulled the door open, waiting for her to enter first. She stayed in front of him, heading inside to the small desk and looking at the tiny green alien behind it.

"Hi. We spoke. Appointment?" she said quickly, passing three pieces of currency over the counter as fast as she could.

"The Sebacean?" the alien replied.

"Yes. Him," she nodded, standing to one side and grabbing behind her. She yanked and John was brought up to the countertop.

"Hi," he managed. "Are you full here? You're full, right? That's too bad, we'll come back--"

Aeryn stamped hard on his left boot. He clamped his mouth shut, refusing to look at her.

"Then please, the medic is ready for you." The alien stood up off the little stool but dropped sharply, even shorter than the two humanoids had expected. "This way."

John leaned over the counter, trying to see over the top, until his head hit the glass shield. He pulled back as they heard the pitter-patter of small shoes on the floor. A door whooshed open and closed and then the tiny alien was standing next to them.

John jumped slightly and Aeryn pushed at his back, following the alien to another door round the side. The door slid open silently and Aeryn kept a firm hold on John's shoulder, guiding him forwards and through.

John walked in cautiously. He stopped so fast she smacked full into his back before she managed to put her hands up and shove him forwards a step.

"What?" she demanded, stepping sound his shoulder.

"No no no no no," he was saying calmly, waving his hands up in a way that conveyed the entire six week Peacekeeper course on Negation in a matter of seconds.

"What?" she repeated, confused. All she saw was a very professional looking, long limbed alien in a spotless little room very neatly stocked with the requisite dental tools.

"The chair," John pouted. "I am not sitting in that chair."

Aeryn looked at it. "Looks quite comfortable," she shrugged.

"Looks too much like a certain Aurora chair I know," he glowered. He turned quickly, grabbing her by the shoulders and turning her too, bustling them out of the tiny room. She sighed and stopped them in the doorway, wrenching herself round.

"Crichton," she tutted.

"No," he said with false cheer, innocence in the blue eyes. "Just no. C'mon, let's go. We tried. We failed."

He pushed at her and she wrapped her hand round his arm, pulling him back into the equally tiny waiting room. She yanked him to a stop, grasping his chin tightly and hauling it round and down to look her in the eye.

"Ow! Toof! Toof!" he cried, folding slightly in pain.

"Exactly!" she hissed. "Now get in that chair and let him fix it," she added, squeezing painfully at his jaw and the inflamed molar currently embedded in it. She paused to look to her left. The small green head watched her from beyond the polished glass defensive bubble. Aeryn smiled back cheerfully before turning to look at the taller human now struggling to speak.

"Aeryn!" he spluttered. "I am not sitting in--"

She tightened her grip. "I'm sorry, what?" she bit out.

"I am not sitting--"

"What?"

His voice turned into the angry growl of a caged tiger in fear for its life; the tone of voice she hated but was starting to appreciate on him.

"I - am - not --"

She sighed, relaxing her hand slightly.

"Oh Crichton," she sighed. "You're making me do something I really don't want to do."

"Don't squeeze," he whimpered, attempting to counter the pain with images of ice cream. She let go of his jaw and instead took hold of the collar on his black and red captain's jacket. She pulled him down toward her.

"Hurry up and get in that chair," she threatened, so close to his ear it tickled, "and I will give you something you've wanted since you stepped on Moya."

"An electric shaver?" he managed, not brave enough to voice what was really on his mind.

"Hardly," she breathed, turning her mouth closer to his ear. Her nose brushed at his hair for barely a nanosecond.

John swallowed. "A bacon double cheeseburger?"

"You can put your hands," she whispered angrily, "all over my… Prowler's attitude stabilisers. I'll _even_ let you take one off and help you fit it to your little module."

John blinked. "You'll help me fit it?"

"_If_ you stop being an infant," she snapped, her nose definitely brushing the hair behind his ear in a way that made his shoulder twitch slightly, "I will help you fit it."

He huffed. "This is blackmail."

"This is bribing you to do something you should be doing anyway," she observed, pushing him back by the collar.

He stood back to catch his balance, and she saw more fear than anger on his face.

"Fine. But you stand there and watch him. I don't want him doing anything he's not supposed to."

"Crichton, I'm not a medic, I don't know anything about--"

"Common sense, Aeryn," he said firmly. "I trust your common sense."

"Fine," she nodded. "Now get in there before I just shoot you and go back to Moya alone."

She pushed him round and hustled him back through the door.

.

* * *

.

"Captain - we've found the transport ship. It was seen just twenty jootahs ago on the ice planet, Sslaj," the young tech called.

Newly installed Captain Pajjet looked up from his chair. "Really. How long will it take us to reach it?"

"Four arrahs, forty jootahs, sir."

"Make it in three arrahs and you'll get a larger cut of the loot," he smiled.

"Yes sir!"

.

* * *

.

Aeryn's comms badge beeped and the medic turned on her, tutting audibly behind his expensive looking breathing apparatus. She cast her eyes over the insensate human before backing out of the room quickly, lifting the collar on her heavy coat.

"Aeryn? Are you there?" came Zhaan's voice.

"Yes, Zhaan, it's me. What is it?" she asked quietly.

"We were worried. It's been three arns. Have you had trouble getting the water?" the Delvian asked.

"Not the water, no. It's already on the transport. Crichton's still under some kind of sedation, the medic's just finishing up now," she allowed, retreating to the front of the shop.

"Oh dear. How is he bearing up?"

"He must have a backbone thinner than Rygel's whiskers he went fahrbot so fast. I had to hold him down so they could sedate him," Aeryn sighed. She closed her eyes, knowing that the sight of crazed fear in the human's eyes as she had forced him back into the chair would haunt her for the next solar week.

"That does not sound good. Perhaps his fear went deeper than we could have known. Perhaps sleeping through it is a good thing."

"I don't think he could have done it otherwise. You should see the sawing and digging the medic's been doing. I swear I will never tell him what he had to do to replace the tooth." She opened her eyes. "He doesn't need to know."

"But it is his tooth, and his health."

"Trust me, Zhaan - if I told him he would shout at me _not_ to tell him," she sighed. The door opened slightly and she looked up. "I've got to go, I think they're bringing him round."

"Poor John. Please bring him back quickly so that he may rest in safety."

"I'll certainly try," she nodded. She cut the connection and walked back in through the door. She found the medic standing next to John's head, his hands on his hips.

"You said he was Sebacean," the medic snapped.

"Very close to, yes."

"Well he's not close enough," he tutted.

"What does that mean?" Aeryn asked warily. She walked round the other side of the chair, looking down at the unconscious human. "What have you done to him?"

"I merely sedated him. How was I to know he wouldn't wake up? Anyway, I have finished, look," he offered. He leaned over and pulled John's lip open at the right side, tilting the head for her to see in. "There. All infection cleaned out and new roots and a tooth implanted."

Aeryn bent down, studying it carefully. It did indeed seem back to normal, save some red scarring. "Seems… ok," she managed.

"Ok? Ok?" the medic spluttered. "It's amazing work, I'll have you know. And it'll cost you an extra two credits for this," he added, brandishing a long syringe.

"What's that?"

"That is what I'll have to use to wake him up, seeing as the injection I normally give Sebaceans isn't working. There's no telling what condition he'll be in when he wakes, or how he will feel."

"You said he'd be fine to walk out unaided!" Aeryn accused darkly.

"And _you_ said he was Sebacean," he snapped back. "His blood supply network and internal membranes are nothing like a Sebacean. I was lucky the usual sedative worked at all. But he just won't come round, not with these normal injections. So stand back while I administer this."

Aeryn did as she was told, watching helplessly as the medic jammed the needle straight into John's neck. She winced but couldn't stop watching as the little alien depressed the plunger.

The medic stood back, watching avidly.

John didn't move. His breathing didn't change.

"Oh." The medic turned to the array of utensils, picking up another syringe.

"Wait," Aeryn commanded. "What was that?"

"Industrial strength rusher fluid. It works on every species I've ever operated on," he grunted.

Aeryn stepped closer and looked down at the insensate man. She sighed and lifted her hand. She slapped at the good side of his face.

His head was pushed to one side but otherwise he didn't move. The dentist folded his arms, shaking his head.

"If we won't come out of it through the drugs I've given him, your barbaric solution is _hardly _going to work, is it?"

Aeryn put her hand to John's head and pulled his eyelid open. Tipped up as if trying to hide from the harsh lights under the awning of his eye socket, the sparkling blueness in the human's eye was slack, vacant. She sighed, thinking, before she realised the pupil was beginning to shrink in the bright lights.

She let go and slapped him again.

His body jerked and his left eye shot open. He dragged in a deep breath and began to raise his arms in bleary disorientation. Aeryn grabbed his wrists and held them down against his chest.

"Crichton - calm down!" she ordered into his face.

His other eye creaked open with the enthusiasm of an elderly snail but he did cease struggling.

"The medic's finished. I've checked it, it looks good," she said clearly. She noticed his eyes were ranging round her face aimlessly. "Can you hear me? Do you understand?"

He appeared to have trouble breathing, or at least breathing out. She let go of his wrists and grabbed his head to steady it.

"John. Can you hear me?" she asked, deliberately clearly.

His eyes were wild, his face reddening, the muscles starting to stand out in his neck. But he coughed out a breath, grabbing onto her arms. Then his head bobbed down twice with uncertainty.

"Good. It's all finished. We can leave. Do you understand?"

Again his head bobbed but it was starting to wobble in her hands. She swallowed and looked at the medic.

"Well? Get out then," he chided, waving hands at her.

"I don't yet know if he can walk!" she protested angrily.

"Make him. I have other patients on the way."

"What if he's permanently damaged?" she demanded, looking back at John's distressed face.

"I did explain the risks before I started," the medic replied primly. "You both agreed they were acceptable. Now just go, get him out of here."

"Frell you," Aeryn snapped at him, feeling John's hands tighten on her arms, "frell you very much." She put her hands to John's heavy leather coat and pulled on it, helping him to sit. She held his head still, worried by the lack of control to his eyes and facial muscles. "Crichton - we are leaving. You have to walk. Can you--"

He put a hand up blearily, knocking one of hers to the side more through luck than planning. He pushed himself to the edge of the chair and she kept hold of his right arm, expecting him to fall. One leg gave under him but he caught himself, managing to stand and look around the room. He went to move and she simply followed, leaving the medic with one last, searing look before they shuffled out of the door.

.

.


	4. Chapter 4

**FOUR**

.

The streets, full of short aliens, were no trouble at all for Aeryn. She strode through the people milling around and they seemed to part for her, as magnets repulsed by a stronger one.

John, on the other hand, barely managed to stay upright as he bounced off people and market stalls alike, tripping over his own feet on the uneven ground.

Aeryn caught one of his dangerous dipping manoeuvres from the corner of her eye and grasped the leather of his forearm quickly. She swung her other arm round his back, grabbing onto the jacket to keep him steady. She kept control of his arm and pushed him forwards with sheer will and a stubborn refusal to be slowed down.

"You know, I've never seen a man go to pieces so quickly," she offered with some curiosity, shuffling him along. John tried to resist her guidance but found himself barricaded in from his right and behind.

The tiny part of his brain that still worked on a communicative level recognised this as a good thing. Another, really really miniscule part of his mind, the one normally reserved for thinking about unimportant things like the future, how Moya relieved herself, if at all, and where all his left socks went to and if it were in fact some kind of Sock Heaven For The Deserving, thought it was a little forward of her to shepherd him through the freezing streets like a mute drunk.

The first part of his brain connected briefly enough with the latter to point out that he was no better than a mute drunk at that moment, what with the right half of his throat, all of his tongue and his entire jaw apparently either out to lunch or similarly indisposed.

Aeryn, disturbed by his silence, watched him as they walked. She noticed the vacancy of the blue eyes, the bleary attitude of his whole face.

"And we have no idea how long this sedative is going to frell with your motor control skills, do we?"

John shrugged as best he could with his tenuous grip on the world, inadvertently banging into a market stall. She hauled him to more of a straight line, now less amused and more worried.

"Well once we and our water supply are back on Moya, you can sleep it off," she nodded, attempting to sound more confident.

John simply shrugged again, and she was unsure if he had heard, was screaming on the inside for ice-cream, or just could not care enough to pretend he were paying attention.

"Well at least you won't be driving me fahrbot with your inane chatter this trip," she said. Quietly.

.

* * *

.

"Captain Pajjet," the alien female nodded, entering the command deck. Two other aliens looked up at the sound of her voice, then backed up a step as inconspicuously as they could.

"Yes, Rou'mou," he said, pleased.

"I have a matter of importance I wish to discuss with you, Captain," she allowed.

"Is this likely to take long?"

"That depends on you, Captain," she said stonily, her head to one side.

Pajjet stood free of his chair, casting dark looks at the two crew members pretending they weren't listening.

"How long to the ice planet of Sslaj?" he demanded roughly.

"One arrah, sixteen jootahs, Captain," the shorter one replied quickly.

Pajjet looked back at the female who had killed for his command. "Well then, Rou'mou, I could spare you half an arrah."

"You are too kind," she snapped sarcastically, standing back and waiting for him to step down from the dais.

Pajjet walked to the door, pushing at the panel and waiting for it to whoosh open. Once it had he stepped through and she followed, stopping just inside. He walked across the small cabin to the window, casting a quick look at the stars in subspace as he did so.

"Report, then," he snapped.

She put her left webbed hand out and touched at the inside panel, causing the tall door to slide shut behind her with a satisfying thunk of metal.

"_Please_," she advised loftily.

His face split slightly into a banana of amusement. "Any problems from the rest of the crew?" he asked quietly.

"Only one," she said, walking toward the window to appraise the view instead of him.

"Oh?"

"He assumed we were recreating. He made the mistake of insulting me with this impudent allegation to my face in front of three others," she hissed angrily.

Pajjet's many breathing orifices patterning his skull fluttered with an amused snort, and she turned on him so fast he almost stepped back in fear.

"Where is this fahrgak now?" he asked carefully.

"Floating back to Sidpimtinia Primalt unaided."

"Ah."

"No-one will dare offend me with their loose talk again," she pointed out.

He nodded, putting his webbed hand up slowly and sliding it over the air holes across the back of her head. She hissed in a deep breath through them, letting her eyes sink closed in pleasure.

"No," he confirmed, lowering his face closer to hers, "I don't suppose they will."

She opened her eyes, feeling her blood starting to heat. "Take off your clothes. Now," she ordered.

"Thought you'd never ask." He pulled at his tunic quickly, revealing the faint green scales and double line of air holes running down his chest. "I cannot resist a female who takes what she wants," he growled as her hands grasped the material of his top, yanking it open wider.

She put a hand to his face, pushing him roughly back into the bulkhead. "Good," she purred, throwing herself at him.

.

* * *

.

The transport pod docked and Aeryn got up from the right command chair, springing round to the door and opening it up.

"Pilot," she called, "we've got water - twenty crates, all reduced for transport," she added, pleased.

"A very good haul, Officer Sun," Pilot agreed through the comms badge. "Is Commander Crichton with you?"

"In a manner of speaking," she allowed. "I'll need some help getting this water offloaded."

"I shall ask the others to help you," Pilot beamed.

Aeryn walked back round to the command chairs, looking at the human currently passed out in the left one. She sighed then stepped up the chair, putting her hand to the large Peacekeeper jacket and yanking him to sit up.

He rolled up as if every bone in his body had melted, but she just braced herself. She managed to hoist him up high enough to shove her shoulder into him before he simply collapsed over her back. She marshalled her strength and hefted him over her shoulder, stepping rather uncertainly round to the ramp and down.

She had just made it to the bottom when she heard voices.

"Frell! Either he weighs less than he looks or you Peacekeepers are made of some serious fweakin' muscles," Chiana chirped.

"He's - just as - heavy - as he - looks," Aeryn gasped, turning to let him slide off her back.

John floated to the floor with the grace and speed of a bowling ball, his impact with the floor making quite the same noise. Aeryn winced slightly, noticing his left eye open. He put his hands out, presumably to find the floor, but as it was behind his back and therefore nowhere he could see it, he was at the kind of disadvantage he just couldn't grasp in his condition.

Chiana rushed up, crouching slightly to stare down at him.

"He looks like dren," she concluded, awe in her voice. "What did they give him? You got any more on you?"

"Chiana," Aeryn tutted, just as D'Argo appeared round the bulkhead.

He paused before coming over quickly. "John?" he blinked down at the human. "What's wrong with him?" he growled, clearly displeased.

"I'm not sure. The medic sedated him and then couldn't wake him up again. He gave him this shot and this is what happened," Aeryn explained.

D'Argo bent down and grasped the human by the shoulders, easily lifting him to his feet. The Luxan held onto the dangling human. He realised he was more hanging from his grip with legs made of human spaghetti than he was making any attempt to take his own weight. D'Argo peered into his face.

"John? Are you ok?" he demanded.

John blinked and his mouth twitched, but then his gaze appeared to shift over the big warrior's shoulder. D'Argo looked at Aeryn.

"He's completely out of it. He needs sleep." He jerked the human off his feet and slung him over his shoulder as if weighed nothing, walking out of the transport hangar.

"Well then," Aeryn nodded with false cheer, turning to Chiana. "Looks like you and I will have to unload the water ourselves, doesn't it."

Chiana tutted. "Next time _I'm_ getting an alien bigger than me to tuck in," she grumbled.

.

* * *

.

Pajjet opened the door, stepping out onto the command deck. Rou'mou appeared behind him, staring the two other crew members down with little or no effort.

"Time to Sslaj?" Pajjet demanded.

"Forty two jootahs, Captain," came the swift response.

Pajjet turned to sit in his chair slowly. "Second Rou'mou," he said stonily. "Leave us. Your observations have been noted."

The female bowed her head slightly and swept off the command deck.

A lone crew member sidled up to the Captain's chair, holding out a data pad displaying readings.

"Sir. We're down to five solar days of water," he advised.

Pajjet took the pad and read it over quickly. "We'll have the Peacekeeper ship before then."

"Will they have water, sir?"

"Whether they do or not, I'm sure there will be many other things on board to drink before we need attack another watering outpost." He handed the pad back to the crew member. "Get back to work."

"Yes, sir."

Pajjet sat back, wiping a satisfied webbed digit across his mouth. He hid a smile, letting himself relax. Things were going to plan.

On all fronts.

.

* * *

.

Aeryn left the galley slowly, yawning and passing D'Argo in the corridor. She nodded and he carried on, apparently on the trail of food.

_Or possibly Chiana_, Aeryn observed, remembering who had still been in the galley when she left. She shrugged it off, her boots taking her slowly and softly down the polished walkway.

She paused as she noticed the door to John's room still open. She looked left and right surreptitiously before walking silently up to the door and looking in.

The unconscious human was sprawled on the bed, spread-eagled on his back.

_Just as D'Argo dropped you, probably,_ Aeryn snorted. _Considering he thinks you're 'friends', he has a funny way of showing it_.

She walked in and immediately sat on the edge, leaning over and taking hold of the large Peacekeeper jacket still keeping the human warm. She pulled at the sleeve as she put a hand inside to his shoulder, heaving him up and rolling him away from her. His arm slid out and she let him drop again, getting up and repeating the procedure with his other arm. She put both hands under his shoulder blades and grabbed the jacket, inching it out from under him.

She pulled it out and dropped it to the floor, removing the black and brown leather vest with as much precision. She took the pulse pistol from his holster and set it on the bedside table before getting up slowly. She yawned and went to the end of the bed. She sat again and went for the laces on his left boot, pulling them undone quickly and methodically.

"What are you doing?" Rygel ground out from the doorway.

She didn't even look up. "When I was a soldier, whenever I returned from a battle wounded, others in my regiment would have the decency to let me sleep," she said, her voice hard with judgement. "But first, they would make a small effort to make me comfortable. I always appreciated the fact that they removed my jacket and my boots, and I never once missed the chance to repay others in my regiment by doing it for them." She pulled John's boot off, dropping it to the floor.

"Sure you're not here for something else? Hmm?" Rygel oiled, floating his thronesled into the room.

"Like what?" Aeryn demanded, turning a look on the Hynerian that could have caused him Sebacean heat delirium, had he been of the right race.

"Like checking where we keeps his valuables?" he mused, floating nearer.

"Rygel, leave me alone before I eject you from that chair. I have had a hard day and I am not in the mood for your dren," she snapped.

Rygel scooted back quickly, snorting in indignation to himself. "Fine, suit yourself. But if he starts moaning about having lost something, I'll know it's _you_ that has it." He turned his sled around and disappeared from the room at speed.

Aeryn began unlacing the other boot with determination, flicking her gaze up the human to his face. "I just hope you won't start complaining as soon as you wake up - that medic did a good job and it would be a shame to shoot you and waste all that currency spent on your new tooth," she mused. She pulled the boot off with an impatient tug, letting go to watch it join its brother on the floor. She twisted and looked back at John's sleeping face, thinking for a long moment. "But it was the best, most direct way to get it fixed and stop your sulking - why you had to be so frelling infantile about the whole thing, I'll never understand. Just one more bizarre reaction to something so mundane."

She got up, pulling off her large black jacket and then ridding herself of her boots. She went to the door, pushing the button to close and lock it, before padding back to the bed in her socks.

She sat on the side, pushing him over slightly.

"And just for the record," she said, reaching for the blanket to pull it over him, "I'm only doing this because it seems you humans are weaker than every other species in the galaxy and need someone to watch you when you're ill."

She pushed the blanket round him warmly before turning and lying down, curling up with her back to him. She shifted up until her neck fell over his outstretched arm very comfortably, wrapping her arms round herself and letting out a long sigh.

"And I suppose… because you've done it for me before. That's all," she asserted, letting her eyes drop closed. "I'm just looking out for the weaker of my team. That's my job." She nodded to herself slightly. "No other reason. None at all."

She let her head lean back, stroking at his arm with her chin, just once.

"No other reason," she breathed, realising she was already falling asleep.

.

.

* * *

_Thanks for reading so far! Hope it's worth your while. :)_


	5. Chapter 5

**FIVE**

.

John tried to shift but something was trapping his left arm to the bed. He rolled to his left, his other hand swathed in blanket. He pulled it free to encounter something soft and warm. Eyes open and registering the sight of a former Peacekeeper asleep with her back to him, he lifted his hand from her arm quickly, letting it rest on the bed beyond her.

He took a deep breath and attempted to find something to say that wouldn't immediately put her on the defensive. But as the magic line came to him, he found he was still short of control over a few muscles. Namely, all the ones for his tongue and jaw.

He made a disgusted sound in his throat, something that made Aeryn pull in a languid breath. He froze, half in appreciation of her movements, half in a very childish feeling of having been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

He watched cautiously as her hand lifted and found his forearm, sliding down and taking his fingers. She curled her own around them and lifted their joined hands to her neck, settling them warmly under her chin. She rolled slightly more away from him, forcing him to lean on her from behind his blanket.

He realised he wasn't going anywhere in the near future.

Momentary relief turned into sly amusement. He let his head back down to the sad excuse for a pillow and decided things could have been a lot worse.

Aeryn shifted slightly, clearing her throat and adjusting their hands under her chin. John's eye popped open and he stared at the back of her head. She moved again, just a little, keeping a tighter grip on his fingers. He opened both eyes and leaned up, looking over the side of her face. She was smiling. Her eyes opened and she turned her head to find him watching her, with a face she had never seen look more unsure of itself.

"Can you talk now?" she asked quietly, her smile gone.

His jaw moved slightly but he shook his head.

"Sometimes I forget you can be like this," she admitted warily. She studied his eyes for a long moment. "Warm. Patient… _Silent_."

She let out a tiny smile at having managed to slight him so easily. She turned slowly onto her back, waiting for him to move away. He didn't. She put a hand up steadily, hesitating before letting her thumb pull at his lower lip with the barest of touches, her face growing serious and worried.

"You will be able to talk at some point?" she dared.

His eyes just looked back at her, and she noticed his right eyebrow dancing in its patented puppy-dog apologetic limbo.

"I hope that means yes. Much as I always tell you to shut up, sometimes _half_ of what you say is not always dren," she allowed weakly.

He smiled and it was as broad as she had ever seen it, almost making her smile too.

"So… you can't move your jaw at all?"

He shook his head and she sighed.

"Maybe that's a good thing."

John let his head drop, his forehead landing against her collarbone warmly. She smiled, glad he couldn't see it.

"And I thought he was sick!" Rygel crowed from the gaps in the locked door. "So much for just looking out for another in your regiment!"

Aeryn jumped and began to disentangle herself from the human quickly, annoyed and embarrassed in equal measure.

John just pushed himself across her, trapping her to the bed, as his arm reached out and he snatched up his gun. He looked over at the door and threw the pulse pistol as hard as he could.

It clanged off the bars with a satisfying chime that scared Rygel out of the room back and broke the uncomfortable silence.

Aeryn put her hands to the t-shirt over John's chest and pushed him off her roughly, turning to get off the bed. He put his hand out quickly and grabbed her arm, but she wrenched it free and scrambled clear. She stood by the bed, not daring to look at him.

"This is where you moan at me but I still leave. Since you can't talk, I'll just assume you're doing it on the inside and leave anyway," she said forcefully, bending to get her jacket and boots from the floor. John collapsed to the bed on his elbows, beaten, watching her walk to the door. "Get some rest," she managed, still looking anywhere but in his direction.

The door fanned open and closed, and he watched her go, his head slowly swaying to a wounded tilt that spoke volumes. He sighed out through his nose, spread his hand over the warm part of the bed she had left, and set the side of his head to it. He closed his eyes for just a second.

.

* * *

.

A shriek and a clatter echoed round the room. John's eyes sprang open. He assessed the situation.

He was lying on the floor, on his front, his arms above his head. He lifted it and looked to his right to find his bed exactly where he had left it.

Another squeal made him jump and he realised it was coming from just outside his room.

"Get - your hands - off me!" came a female growl and he recognised the sadly familiar grunts of struggling from Aeryn.

"You brainless - frellnik!" Chiana heaved, before squealing again.

John listened, trying to work out how many boots he could hear.

"I told you - there's only one male on board," Aeryn snapped angrily, right at the entrance to his room.

John shifted a large boot from the side of his head and slid himself under the bed slowly, pulling the blanket down that side and moving to peer out from the side nearest the door. He spotted one pair of Peacekeeper boots, Chiana's almost dainty black boots and the Luxan warrior's dren-kicking footwear. Three more pairs of unfamiliar boots were behind them.

"We'll check your story, Peacekeeper," came a rasping, scathing voice.

John pulled back slightly, watching a single pair of dark grey boots walk cautiously toward the bed. He held his breath, his right hand wandering down to find his gun was not at home in his holster attached to him. He vaguely remembered throwing it at something.

_And since when did I get so used to it being there anyway?_ he asked himself.

The boots stopped not a foot away from the edge of the bed. They stayed there for a long few seconds.

"Bed is not warm. There was no-one here," came a voice from directly above.

John felt his jaw suddenly hang loose as if it had come unglued. He kept still, ignoring this minor improvement in muscle control, as the boots turned and walked back toward the door. His eyes caught the fallen pulse pistol, lying behind the door swinging mechanism. He hoped the others wouldn't see it too.

"Let's go," snapped a voice.

"Where to?" Aeryn demanded.

"Shut up, Peacekeeper. The Captain's Second wants a word with you."

All boots moved forward, Chiana's feet stumbling slightly on the cool floor. John waited until they were all out of sight. He slid out from under the bed, keeping it between him and the bed as he moved along it steadily.

He crawled round it before finding his feet and padding in his thick socks to the door. He leaned on the surround, looking round carefully. The corridor was empty. He risked a look the other way and hurried over, crouching and feeling behind the door block to retrieve his gun. He pulled it free and retreated behind the frame, thinking furiously even as he looked around for his boots.

.

* * *

.

The door whooshed open and Pilot gasped slightly in surprise.

"Commander?" he managed, his two front arms raising in either relief or fear. "I thought everyone had been taken aboard the Sidpimtinian vessel!"

John waved his hands at him, shaking his head as he hurried up to the large control bay. His mouth opened but all that came out was either Welsh or numb-tongue-ese.

"Crichton? I do not understand the sounds you're making," Pilot protested. "What is the matter with you?"

John climbed up onto the surround and sat facing the large alien. He leaned forward and opened his mouth, pulling his lip out to the side. Pilot shifted back in surprise, then tilted his large head down to see what John's other hand was gesturing to.

"Uhm… Very nice," Pilot managed, lost.

John pointed at it again with his free hand, then closed his fist and jabbed it at his neck. "Anath-ethic," he managed.

"Am I to understand the dental medic gave you something for pain?"

John let go of his mouth and nodded.

"And whatever this is, it is interfering with your ability to speak?"

John nodded again, grabbing Pilot's arm in apparent relief. He looked around the den. "Woth hath-end?"

"You want to know what has happened?"

John made a circling gesture with his hands, looking rather frustrated.

"Nearly an arn ago a vessel appeared on Moya's sensors. She was uneasy but we let the vessel approach - they said they wanted to trade."

John waited, just blinking.

"When the people boarded I identified them as Sidpimtinians," Pilot continued. "They took everyone by force except, I gather, Rygel. When they were taken from Command, Aeryn guessed they would not find the Dominar and told them they already had everyone on board. They said they would check anyway - an unpleasant female named Second Rou'Mou insisted that there should be two Peacekeepers on board. It is my understanding they were looking for you."

John slapped a hand over his face, swaying backwards dangerously. Pilot's long arm snaked round him and kept him upright, lest he topple off the high surface. John let his hand drop, leaning on Pilot's arm with gratitude.

He looked around the large den and Pilot waited, observing the tell-tale set of pre-occupation to the human's face. He turned and looked at Pilot suddenly, pointing at a DRD. "Eee need theh."

"You want to use the DRDs?" Pilot guessed.

John nodded, pointing at his own eyes before making a long, sour face and rippling his fingers at him.

"To find Rygel?" Pilot hazarded.

John grinned and snapped his fingers, pointing at the larger male. Pilot nodded, apparently pleased.

"I shall have them start immediately. What do we do when we have found him?" Pilot asked eagerly.

John tapped at Pilot's large arm to free himself, swinging to his left and sliding down the bay to land a little unsteadily on his feet again. He put a hand on the surround, leaning on it. He reached down and took the pulse pistol from his leg, shaking the side at Pilot meaningfully.

"If you are suggesting that yourself and Rygel affect a rescue…"

John paused, his head tilting in interest.

"Then… It has been interesting and humbling to meet someone of your species. I wish you safe passage to your afterlife, if you have one," he finished quietly.

John shook his head with a grin, replacing the pistol in its holster. He reached out and indicated the controls. "Ge' uh pithaths."

"You want to talk to the pirates?" Pilot guessed.

John shook his head before indicating Pilot.

"You would like _me_ to talk to them?"

John nodded.

"I should not, Commander. The pirates believe Moya and I to be incapable. Aeryn told them only she knew the control code to unlock my allegedly restricted function."

John looked surprised. "Ur reth-tik-tith?"

"No, I am _not_ restricted. The Sidpimtinian pirates simply believe they could not have me search for you or others aboard, due to my alleged incapacitation by Peacekeepers. They are under the impression that they must get the code from Aeryn before they can release any functions to take Moya as spoils."

John's face turned dark and Pilot lifted his arm, letting his large pointed digit touch the side of the human's shoulder gently. But John seemed thoughtful. He pointed at the vocal controls again.

"Teh theh oo know I'm on boarh an' I know the releasth coath," he nodded.

"You want me to tell them I know you are on board, and that you know release codes too?"

John nodded.

"And you are sure?"

John pulled the pulse pistol free again, slid the oil cartridge out to check it, snapped it back home with confidence, and looked up at Pilot.

"Gi' me one arn," he nodded.

.

* * *

.

John hurried down the giant corridor, arms flailing to keep balance as he skidded to a partial stop by every small entrance. He tried to look in before racing to the next one.

"Ry-_thuh!_" he called, frustration and disgust adding to his volume. "Ry-thuh, oo litheh thoad!"

A DRD raced into his path before stopping, blinking lights and squeaking at him in excitement.

"You goh' 'im?" he demanded. The tiny drone turned and raced off, John following until the DRD screeched to a halt by the wall. It pointed its lights at the hatchway in front of it eagerly.

John grasped one of Moya's ribs to bring him to a complete stop. He bent down to look in the tiny aperture adjoining the floor.

"Theh oo are!" he heaved. "Ge' outh here now."

The small, shaking form hulking in the dark padded closer to the grating. "Crichton?" it whimpered. "Is that you?"

"Yeah. Ge' ou'," he ordered.

"Are you damaged?" Rygel snorted. "There are pirates out there!"

"No, the pithaths ha goh," John asserted.

"The pirates have what?"

"Goh," the human repeated.

"Goh?"

"Goh."

"Goh?"

"_GOH!_" John roared.

Rygel jumped and pushed at the grating, plodding out slowly. "Don't blame me if your translator microbes have gone fahrbot," he grumped, before squinting up at the human. He pointed. "What's wrong with your tongue?" he asked, and if curiosity had been currency he would have cried over how much he had just used.

"Nothin'," John blustered.

"Then why is it hanging out of your mouth?" Rygel sneered. John turned and began to walk off, his hand coming up to check the evidence. The pint-sized Hynerian hurried to catch up with him, unable to see John trying to stuff the unco-operative tongue back in his mouth and keep it there. "I mean, I'd expect it to be polishing Moya's walkways if Aeryn were here, but she's not. Don't tell me you like _me_ now."

"Thuck you," John managed. "Leth go ge' them bath."

"I'm not giving anyone a bath! I'm a Dominar--"

"Bath!" John interrupted. "Bath! Bath here on Moya!"

"Back?" Rygel hazarded. "I see. Well I'm not going over to some pirate ship and helping that bunch of wellnitzes either. It's their fault they got caught, and their look-out if they can't--"

John turned and whisked the little former leader off the floor with both hands, raising him to meet his line of sight.

"Put me _down_! How dare you!"

"Why thith they ge' tathen?" John growled into his face. "Bekoth Aeryn an I were buyin thood. Why were we buyin thood? Bekoth you athe ith all. Tho thut the hell up an do ath I thay, or I'll stuth you tho far down that thute you'll come ou' in Oth-taylia!" He paused so his tongue could regoup, Rygel still trying to piece together what he was saying.

"And how are you going to do anything when you can't even make people understand you?" he snapped, struggling against the human's grip. "I mean, it was bad enough when I heard the words you said and didn't understand what you meant, but now I can't even do that!"

John blinked. Then he blinked again.

"What?" Rygel dared.

The human's face lost all of its anger quicker than a Hynerian plate lost food, and suddenly a dark, dark grin spread over John's face.

"Now… Crichton… whatever you're thinking…"

.

.


	6. Chapter 6

**SIX**

.

.

"You will give me the release code for your Pilot and you will do it _now_!" Captain Pajjet hurled.

The command deck of the Sidpimtinian vessel stood to painfully worried attention. Five sets of watery eyes and one Delvian watched the female former Peacekeeper lift her head. Blood dripped from the side of her mouth and she closed it, swishing it around. She sniffed, straightened her shoulders, and spat it all out at the Sidpimtinian.

Her aim was good. The Captain caught all of it in the face. The mixture of blood and saliva dribbled over his many tiny gills, disgusting him insanely.

"You Sebacean kreetash!" he roared, letting his hand fly. It cracked into Aeryn's cheek, sending her flying to the grating in a heap.

"Stop this!" Zhaan called desperately. "She doesn't know the release code! There _is_ no release code!"

"Your Pilot said there was!" Pajjet raged at Zhaan, making her step back into the strong forms of the guards behind her. "Leviathan Pilots don't lie!"

"Then you're frelled," Aeryn coughed from the floor. "Because I'm never going to tell you a release code."

"Fine!" Pajjet shouted. "We'll blow a hole in her landing bay doors, empty your Leviathan of anything valuable and set fire to her. We already have a ship."

"No!" Zhaan shrieked. "How dare you! Moya is alive!"

"I know," Pajjet spat at her. "So you get your PK bitch to tell me the code, or your living ship burns to death. Your choice!"

"She does not know the code," Zhaan pleaded. "She doesn't!"

"Zhaan!" Aeryn grunted.

"She doesn't!"

"You're asking the wrong questions," Second Rou'Mou put in smoothly, advancing through the assorted crew still gaping at their new Captain's ruthlessness. "Who _does_ know the code? How do we get it?"

Zhaan looked at the smaller female. "Please - I'm begging you to believe me - there is no code!"

Rou'Mou snorted at her, all of her tiny airholes rippling with contempt. Then she looked at Pajjet. "If this Peacekeeper doesn't know it, maybe the other one does."

"Are you sure there were two of them?" Pajjet demanded angrily. "My men checked everywhere. We didn't find any others aboard."

"Then they were stupid or clumsy - or both," she snapped. "There were two of them. I saw them. And I saw this one shoot at me as their transport pod left." Rou'Mou turned to Aeryn, grabbing her upper arm and hauling her to sit up. "You. Where's the other Peacekeeper?"

"There isn't one," Aeryn growled.

Rou'Mou tilted her head, her searing gaze directed at the woman on the floor. "You're lying," she assessed.

"No, really," Aeryn snorted mirthlessly, turning her head to look up at the female. "There really _isn't_ any other Peacekeeper around here for… well, a really long way."

Rou'Mou searched her eyes for a long moment. "And how do you know that?"

"Because there _were_ two of us. And then," Aeryn said clearly, eyeing the female, "I had to kill him."

The pirates around the command room shared an uneasy glance.

"Don't believe me?" Aeryn challenged. "He was my superior. Killing him meant there was a vacancy. I filled it."

The females stared each other out. Eventually Rou'Mou let go of Aeryn and stood back, clasping her hands behind her back, her head tilted slightly.

"She's lying," Pajjet breathed.

"Ok… You want to know the real reason I killed him?" Aeryn asked, her tone flat.

"Go on," Rou'Mou said thoughtfully.

"Because he was a hormonally-challenged male who couldn't keep his hands to himself," she snapped, cleaning blood off her lip with a manacled hand.

Rou'Mou looked at Pajjet. "I believed her first story," she observed.

"Sir?" came a tiny voice.

"What is it?" Pajjet snapped, whirling to stare at the smaller male.

"A message, sir, from the pilot on their ship. It says… It says it knows there _was_ one more Peacekeeper on the Leviathan. It's asking for time to see if he's still there, to pinpoint his exact location - it says this officer should also have the release codes we need."

Pajjet turned on Aeryn. "Why did you lie?"

"Uh… I'm on the floor and you're about to shoot me anyway?" she pointed out sarcastically.

"Third!" Pajjet called, and a bright young Sidpimtinian appeared as if by magic at his shoulder.

"Sir."

"Take the Delvian female to the brig. Chain her up with the Nebari and the Luxan."

"And the Peacekeeper, sir?"

"I want a private word with her," he smiled.

"Sir," the male nodded, not really wanting to know any more details. He turned and grasped Zhaan's arms, ushering her along to the door at the end of the command room.

"No! She doesn't know any code! There is no code!" she wailed.

"Shut up!" the Third commanded, bundling her out and slamming the door behind him.

Pajjet looked at Second Rou'Mou. "You are in control of the ship until I am finished with this Peacekeeper," he said grandly.

"Yes, sir," Rou'Mou allowed.

Pajjet stooped and clamped a hand around Aeryn's arm. "Get up."

Aeryn shook him off and got to her feet, tossing her loose hair over her shoulder and standing as tall as she could. She was nearly the same height at he, she noticed.

"Now. Why don't we go into my office and talk."

"Why don't you," she said deliberately, "blow it out your gills."

She rammed a foot down on his before launching herself forwards. Her head crashed into his. With his foot trapped, unable to stumble, he simply fell over backwards. Aeryn leapt on him, her knees pinning his shoulders to the floor. Her manacled hands reached round his throat.

"Stop!" came a shrill warning.

Aeryn froze as she heard a power whine somewhere behind her.

"Unwise," Rou'Mou continued. "Get off him."

Aeryn looked up slowly, finding three guns of differing sizes pointed at her.

"Right," she allowed, her breath angry and resentful. She stood slowly.

Pajjet scrambled to his feet, pushing weapons away from him.

"Get her in the back room," he seethed.

As Rou'Mou pushed at her shoulder roughly, urging her toward the far door, Pajjet shared a look with his Second.

"Good work," he breathed. "Come with us, Second Rou'Mou. I may need your help on this one."

"Captain," came a squeak from the male manning the forward control board.

Pajjet paused. "What is it?"

"We're having a problem with the Luxan prisoner sir - the guards say he's gone mad on bloodlust. He's killed two of our--"

"Tell them to shoot him!"

"What if we need him to help us find--"

"Are you Captain now?" he bellowed.

Rou'Mou stepped over, slapping at the taller Captain's arm. "He's right," she hissed.

Pajjet turned and stared down at her for a long moment. Then he turned on the younger Sidpimtinian. "Fine!" he spat. "Tell them to seal that section and I'll get down there myself."

"Sir."

"Second Rou'Mou," Pajjet snapped. "Take the Sebacean to my command room. Make sure she doesn't move a single hair until I return."

"Sir," Rou'Mou allowed, with obvious enthusiasm.

Pajjet turned and stalked from the room, others making way for him gratefully.

.

* * *

.

"Captain Pajjet," Rou'Mou's voice barked over the comms unit at his wrist.

Pajjet stepped back from the translucent security wall, dragging his eyes from the weary Luxan within.

"Report."

"It has been nearly thirty jootahs, sir. Am I to wait here much longer with this PK bitch?"

"The Luxan seems to have tired himself out. Pity - I was enjoying the show. Very admirable, but ultimately, completely pointless." Pajjet turned to the three males next to him, on the safe side of the wall. "You - get in there and chain him up. Check the Nebari and that chanting Delvian."

"Yes sir," they chorused, one of them dropping the security shield. They edged toward D'Argo, grappling with him to get him chained to the far wall.

"I'm on my way up," Pajjet said, leaving the detention room and making his way up to the command deck briskly. By the time he was there, he found Rou'Mou pulling a reluctant Peacekeeper by the arm to bring her back onto the command deck too. "What is it?" he asked suspiciously.

"We're receiving a transmission, Captain, and it's not the Leviathan," Rou'Mou replied. "It's a male - he says he's the other Peacekeeper and he wants to trade."

Pajjet grinned, turning a look on Aeryn. "See? Never trust a Peacekeeper, especially a female." He turned back to his second in command. "Well? Let's hear it."

She tipped a hand at the younger male and he flipped a switch. A voice crackled over the speakers.

"_This is Captain Larraq of Icarion Company, Pleisar Regiment.__You have one of my officers over there - a special commando - and I want her back. I don't care about the others, they were prisoners anyway. Are you listening?_"

Aeryn blinked in confusion at the gravelly voice that certainly did not match the title. She cast a worried look at the Captain and his Second.

Pajjet cleared his throat. "Yes, I can hear you, Captain Laraqq," he said smoothly. "What could you possibly have that I would want in exchange for this filthy creature?"

"_What do you want for her?_"

There was a pause while the Captain looked at Rou'Mou. She lifted her chin, eyeing him dangerously. "I want," Pajjet said slowly, "you."

"_You stupid yotz! I've got gems from--"_ The transmission appeared to become muffled, as if something were leaning on the pick-up. Then it cleared. "_I can pay for her,_" came the grumpy admission.

"With what?" Pajjet demanded. "We stand ready to loot your ship, Captain, and there's nothing you can do about it."

"_What I have isn't on that Leviathan. I have codes - command codes, overrides, comm frequencies. How many special envoy vessels have you seen out here, protected by Peacekeeper Marauders? I have the codes you need to get past them and loot the vessels they protect._"

Pajjet gestured to the male. He closed the connection. Pajjet turned on Aeryn. "Is he telling the truth?"

"Why should I tell you?" she shrugged.

"Why would he swap all of that information for you? Why are you so important?" he demanded.

Rou'Mou's head tilted slightly. "Perhaps she is his mate."

"Perhaps I have more than one skill," Aeryn shot back.

"She's not a normal Peacekeeper," Rou'Mou concluded. "She's not the typical bimbo with a gun - and he called her a special commando… She's special forces, perhaps. So…" She circled Aeryn slowly, thinking. "So if she's some kind of special operative, then her Captain would have to be so too. Which means… He may well know the codes of which he speaks." She paused, looking at Pajjet. "I think he might have something for us after all."

"Sir," the comms male interrupted carefully. "There's a Peacekeeper Prowler approaching. It's on a wide vector."

"Are its weapons powered up?" he demanded.

"Not the Peacekeeper ones, sir. But there is a strange power fluctuation from the nose of the craft. I'm not sure if it's a weapon."

"Is it drawing power?"

"It is, sir."

"Farhgak! Then it _is_ a weapon, you brainless hatchling!" Pajjet hissed. He turned and looked at Rou'Mou. Her only response was to narrow her watery eyes at him.

Pajjet held his hand up, thinking. Then he cleared his throat and tipped a slightly webbed digit at the male. He opened the communication line again.

"I have thought about your proposal," Pajjet said loftily. "I believe you should come aboard so that we may discuss the idea."

"_Well don't take all frelling day about it,_" came the snapped response. "_I want that officer in the landing bay when I arrive. And if you frell with me, I'll burn your mivonks off with this prototype weapon I have here_."

"Prototype weapon?" Pajjet inquired, somewhat uncomfortably.

"_It's called a…_" There was a pause, another muffled sound on the transmission. "_It's called a Soupy Nin 10 Doe_."

"Never heard of it."

"_Well of course you haven't, you wellnitz! I said it was a prototype!_"

Pajjet shared a look with Rou'Mou. Then he turned to look out of the front window, eyeing the approaching Prowler. "Fine. Come aboard. We shall bring your officer down to the landing bay. You will provide us with proof before we let her go."

"_Agreed._"

The transmission was cut. Pajjet nodded to Rou'Mou and she took Aeryn's elbow, turning her and walking to the exit door. Pajjet followed, calling for other males to follow them out. The procession left the command deck.

.

* * *

.

"Oh well done, Crichton," Rygel snapped. "Now he's going to have the entire ship ready to meet us - just you and me. And what the yotz are we supposed to use as weapons? I've never seen a Soupy Nin 10 Doe on this Prowler!"

"Ith not a Thuper Ninthendo, ith one of Moya'th thabilything nekthuth regulaterth with the cover taken oth. Now thut up," John snapped. "I'm thinkin'."

"Think faster - we're nearly there," Rygel observed, his little hands pressed to the window next to him. "I don't know if I've made this clear enough to that unshelled nut that passes for your microscopic fahrbot brain, but I have no intention of dying on a Sidpimtinian pirate vessel!"

"Thparky, thut up!" John cried angrily, manoeuvring the Prowler to glide into the landing bay in a long, graceful arc that on any other solar day of the solar week would have made him proud of his piloting skills. As it was he set the craft down carefully, mindful of the grief he would incur if he scratched Aeryn's baby. _Assuming we all get out of this alive_, he realised.

He began to power the main engines down, keeping enough juice online to affect a quick getaway. He turned in the seat, pushing Rygel's head down.

"Keep down," he ordered. "They don't know you're here. You thtay in the bath, keep the commth on. Ith I call, you bether be ready."

"Ready for what?" Rygel demanded.

John was already releasing the hatch, pushing it open and starting to climb out. Rygel ducked hastily, keeping his mouth firmly shut as he made a desperate effort not to be seen.

John swung out over the side of the Prowler, skidding down to jump to the solid flooring of the landing bay. He pulled his bright red Peacekeeper Captain's jacket straight and turned quickly, assessing the damage.

Five males, all dressed in loose, light blue overalls, were watching him. Their shiny faint green heads fairly vibrated with the lines and lines of tiny airholes twittering away over their skin in the Sidpimtinian equivalent of anxiety breathing. John put his hands out as he realised they were all pointing small black weapons at him.

He looked at the furthest male to his left.

"You the Ca'thain?" he asked.

"No," came a voice. John turned quickly, finding a tall male, a rather short female and Aeryn stood at the rear of the Prowler. "I am," the male continued.

"Greath," John sighed. He looked at his Peacekeeper Captain's boots, letting his hands drop before his eyes ran up the grating, back to the Captain. "Tho you want pooth?"

"Pooth?" Pajjet echoed, lost.

"Pooth?" Rou'Mou wondered.

"Pooth," John repeated. "That I know coadth."

"Coadth?" Aeryn prompted.

"Coadth! Commth, releath coadth, overrydth, everythin'," John went on. Aeryn's face frowned at him so hard he wondered why his face didn't catch fire, but he ignored her. He kept his attention on the two Sidpimtinians.

"Codes?" Rou'Mou dared.

John snapped his fingers and pointed at her, and she shared a look with Pajjet.

"What happened to your voice?" she asked slowly. "On the transmission--"

"Thath the Thuper Ninthendo," he nodded. "Metheth everythin' up. Nowhere near ath good ath the Pee Eth - and the Pee Eth thtill had a thlot for Thuper Ninthendo thtuff. Thtill, we get what we're githen."

"Riiiiight," Pajjet allowed sceptically. "So yes, we want proof of your knowledge of codes. Or I shoot this Peacekeeper here and now," he added.

"There'th no need for that," John said slowly, but Aeryn noticed his casual smile was starting to recede. "I hath a thip here with coadth on it."

"A thip?" Pajjet challenged.

"A thip?" Rou'Mou echoed.

"A thip! Here!" John cried, exasperated. He undid the buckles on the large red leather jacket, opening it up to show it was empty before putting his hand inside. The sound of many weapons charging started up behind him and he froze. "Whoa - ith jutht a thip!" He brought his hand out slowly and opened all but one finger and a thumb, showing the small square block off to the three in front of him. "Can I hath my othisser bath now pleath?"

Pajjet reached out and took Aeryn's arm, pulling her along with him as he approached the human. He stopped a few feet away, putting his free hand out for the chip. John leaned it toward him but closed his hand at the last minute.

"You really think I'll let you hath it bethore I geth my othisser?" he grinned. "Come on, nyth and eathy, hand her oh-ther."

Pajjet gave Aeryn's arm a gentle push and she took a step toward John. The human's hand opened and he reached out again.

Pajjet took the small chip as John looked at his feet. Aeryn heard feet behind her and braced herself to be shot in the back.

"Thank you," Pajjet said politely. "Now I have this, I have no need of this stupid distraction and you have no way to set off your prototype weapons. We shall take your Leviathan and all her goods." He stood back quickly.

"Oohhh, how thid I _know_ you were gonna thay that," John sighed.

"Men - kill them both!" Pajjet roared.

.

.

* * *

**_Thanks for reading!_**


	7. Chapter 7

**SEVEN**

.

John's knee came up as he pushed Aeryn down. She felt her feet stumble on the grating - and then there _was_ no grating.

She felt herself falling and simply anticipated for the short sharp shock at the end. It came sooner than she was ready for but she landed on her feet. She slammed into the wall, her hands still manacled together. She stumbled backwards quickly.

Not a moment too soon. John shot down the same way she had come. Weapons fire accompanied his grabbing of her wrist. He yanked her after him down the narrow duct. She bent over nearly double to avoid hitting the metal ceiling and he was forced to let go of her. She tried to get her bearings even as she ran after him.

He stopped short and she didn't have time to halt her stride. She whammed into his backside, propelling him forward at speed. He cried out as his arms pin-wheeled. She tried to lean back but toppled after him.

The next moment she was crashing into something mostly soft. She sat up, counting her blessings and shaking her hair from her face. She looked around, finding it predominantly discarded clothes and refuse. She looked down and was surprised to see a standard-issue Peacekeeper boot in front of her. She blinked, then realised there was another one three feet to the right of it. A horrible, horrible feeling of unease began to creep over her as she made out ragged, pained breathing from behind her.

She turned slowly, almost afraid to look behind her. She gasped and struggled to the side, sliding off the warm, comfortable crashmat made of Crichton. He had one hand on his pulse pistol, the attached arm splayed out at right angles. His left hand was on his chest as he attempted to wheeze air back into his lungs.

"Crichton," she managed guiltily. "Are you alright?"

He puffed air out in small measures, sucking fresh air in as if any that went unused would be charged for. She knelt next to him and grabbed his open jacket in two hands. She wrenched him to a sitting position, shifting onto one leg and bending her other knee to bolster his back. She lifted both hands, balled them, and _whoomf_ed them into his back with all of her weight.

He spat carbon dioxide and any saliva not tied down in shock and pain. He panted in air, sounding much like an aged bellows organ, before waving his hand.

"What - are you - doing - woman?" he heaved on each expulsion.

"Countering the effects of being winded," she nodded. She raised her hands again.

"Stop!" he cried. "How is - beating the crap - outta me - gonna help?"

"I'm punching your penaumal bags to get them filling with air!"

"I don't have - pen ow mul bags," he panted. "I have lungs. And they're not there!"

"Oh," she replied in a small voice. "Well…"

He put his hand to his mouth quickly. "My tongue!"

"What about it?" she demanded, scooting round to his side again and finding him poking himself in the mouth. "Don't do that," she chided, slapping his hand away. "Who knows where you've had your hands today."

"My tongue! My tongue works!" he cried happily. "I can talk again!"

"Frell," she sighed. "I knew it couldn't last forever. Come on, get up. Show me the plans for this place, let's find the others and get back to my Prowler." She pushed herself to her feet, putting her hand out for his. He holstered the pistol and took her palm with his, hauling himself up.

"Plans?" he echoed. "What plans?"

She stared for a full second. "You came onto this ship without asking Pilot for a rough guide to the layout of this place?" she asked dangerously.

"Hey, I came, didn't I?" he protested. "And I came with weapons!"

"Two pulse pistols and a flapping tongue? Wow, this will be _easy_," she intoned.

"You know, you're picking up sarcasm really well," he shot back, hands on hips. "How's this one: I had less than an arn to think of something, so I stopped by the copy shop and made nice little brochures on the advantages of owning a Sid Vicious-inian pirate ship - and yes, Aeryn, they came with maps!"

"Now look--"

Shouts and movement from the vent ten feet up the wall distracted the pair of them. He grabbed the foot-long chain between her manacles without hesitation. He pulled her toward the far hatch, not even stopping to look back. He swung a boot into the door and it burst inwards.

Aeryn blinked, almost impressed, as he crouched down and drew his pistol. He shuffled in head-first, disappearing down the small duct on his elbows. Aeryn waited for his boots to disappear, then threw herself after him.

.

* * *

.

Rygel risked a look over the lip of the Prowler's pilot seat, looking around the landing bay so slowly he risked growing moss.

The place was deserted. He sniffed to himself, secreting the comms badge inside his robe and grabbing the straps on the side of the craft. He hauled himself up, looking left and right with care. When nothing moved and no-one shouted, he looked up to the ceiling, searching for surveillance devices. Shaking his head, he climbed up and over the lip, sliding down the outside and landing on his bare feet with unexpected grace.

He turned left and right. "Now then," he grumbled to himself. "If I were a pirate hoarding loot, where would I keep it?"

.

* * *

.

"Larraq!" Pajjet screamed into the refuse room. "You're on a ship, you fahrgak! You can't get away!"

He tapped at his comm badge on his wrist. "Second Rou'Mou - check the Prowler is guarded. Move!"

"Done," she snapped back from the miniature badge. Pajjet nodded to himself, keeping his gun ready as he let himself drop down into the refuse.

He looked around carefully, eyeing the mounds of loot that had proved to be less valuable once they had taken a closer look. He climbed over it steadily, keeping wary eyes out for movement. His slitted gaze halted as he caught sight of the open vent.

"Second Rou'Mou," he snapped into the comm unit. "They are in the pruhellicac duct - level four, breet side."

"I will send men to the other end," she replied.

"You go too. I need someone with brains."

"Yes, Captain."

He crept toward the opening before crouching and looking down it. He grinned and pushed himself in head-first.

.

* * *

.

"Crichton," she called hoarsely, in a perverse attempt to be heard without the entire ship being a party to their conversation.

"Keep going," he replied simply. They shuffled along as fast as their elbows would carry them. "Now I know how Bishop felt in _Aliens_," he called over his shoulder.

"Which aliens?"

"The last good one," Crichton called back. "Before it went sequel-for-the-sake-of-sequelly."

"I have no idea what you're talking about - as usual," she grunted. "How much farther?"

"The conversation about me not having a map? Were you here for that?" he countered.

"Then shut up and keep moving," she warned.

"That's what I--. Whatever," he sighed. He paused suddenly and she stopped before she crawled into his boots. "Oh," he managed.

"What is it?" she demanded.

"Ok, we're going to have to slide down now," he said with a marked load of false cheer.

"Do what?"

"Back up a little," he called. "I am not taking this one headfirst."

Aeryn moved backwards and John tucked himself into a ball, the back of his head pressing into the wall as he struggled to get his boots round in front of him.

"Hurry," Aeryn urged.

He struggled and wrenched, and after a few nail biting minutes she put a hand out and cracked his head against the side. He froze, cursing.

"Give up - it's impossible," she observed. "You're just going to have to go down headfirst."

"Ok, but if it knocks my new tooth out I am _not_ going back to Dr E.T. and getting it replaced." He pushed himself back round, flat on his stomach, and inched forward. "Right. Don't land on me this time. I don't have many more ribs to bruise."

"Oh don't be such an infant." She slapped at the ankle of his boot in front of her face and he moved forward. "Now go. It won't take them long to figure out where we are."

"Yes sir," he grunted.

Then he was gone. One moment he had been lying in front of her, the next his boots just slipped away from her. She gasped slightly, shuffling up hurriedly to check. She looked down the incline, finding it not that steep, and had time to see his boots disappear around a corner about twenty feet down the slide.

She pushed herself after him.

.

* * *

.

The four pirates took up a corner of the landing bay each, watching the Prowler with one eye and the bay exits with the other.

So they didn't see the Hynerian creeping along the metal catwalk above them, stifling his malicious chuckles as he climbed in through an inspection hatch and found himself in a small, dark steel duct. He rubbed his hands together and pulled his robes straight, heading for the far end and the light it was displaying.

.

* * *

.

Aeryn whizzed down the chute, smiling despite the uncertainty of what lay around the slight bend in the metal tunnel. Manacled hands stretched out in front of her, her boots lifted slightly to reduce drag, she simply careered down the narrow duct with ease.

"Crichton!" she called. A muffled noise whooshed past her and she grinned more widely. "Is this what you call 'fun'?" _Because this is what I call 'fun',_ she realised. She felt the bend now moving to her right and the incline was becoming much less steep. She slowed a tiny amount, almost sad to leave the speed behind as she rounded the bend.

She gasped and slapped her palms against the metal, trying to stop herself. She failed and instead curled her arms round her head.

A second later she hurtled into the human currently parked on his back, looking up.

"Ho! You are determined to bruise every bit of skin I've got, right?" he protested.

She moved her hands and found her head and shoulders a few inches above his knees. She let her arms fall and they slapped into the belt for his leg holster.

"I didn't know you were going to stop like that," she said defensively.

He put his elbows under him and managed to look down his front at her. "This is the end of the line," he pointed out, and she noticed the shiny wall behind his head. "We'll have to go up from here."

"Pity," she observed before she could engage her brain.

"Why's that? You liked the ol' water chute back there?" he smiled.

"Actually? I think I did," she nodded. She watched his face for a long moment, noticing he was doing the same to her. "It was… fun. You know?" she dared. "Not that we should be having fun while we're down here."

He grinned suddenly and she had a sinking feeling he was about to unleash some Crichton Cheekiness.

"Talking of while you're down there," he teased.

She lowered her eyes to the zip-fly on his black leather trousers splayed out under her, not six inches away. She swallowed and looked up the front of his now very dusty black t-shirt, his specially-borrowed red Captain's jacket still open and now sprawling around him happily. She did eventually find his eyes.

"Something you'd like me to bite off?" she smiled sweetly.

His smile fell. "Let's go before they catch up to us," he said quickly, and she grinned at him. He rolled his eyes, shaking his head at his gullibility before he thought for a moment. "You want to go first?"

"Why?" she asked cautiously.

"You're lighter than I am. If you fall, I've got you," he pointed out.

"If I go first, you can watch my backside as I climb up the duct," she replied, deliberately clearly.

He snapped his fingers, apparently in defeat. "Damn. Y'know, I never thought of that."

"Like frell you didn't," she retorted, but she smiled anyway. "Ok, get back."

He shuffled as far as he could go before he was up against the bulkhead. She got to her hands and knees and crawled over him, turning onto her back and inching up his front. She put her hands to the lip of the duct above them and studied it for a second.

"Even though this has been the highlight of my day, I really think you should move. I mean, I don't _want_ you to, but I think you should," he managed, perhaps a foot behind her head.

She smiled to herself but grasped the two small ridges on the inside of the duct. She began to pull herself up. She felt his hands catch at the sides of her trousers and push up, and she wondered in a detached way if he would grasp anything else.

She pushed the thoughts aside, remonstrating herself for losing focus. She heaved and got herself up the duct with steady determination. She began to climb, using the ridges every foot or so as a toe-hold or something to wedge her hands against. With her wrists manacled twelve inches apart it was difficult, but not impossible.

She heard shuffling and grunting and knew the human was not far behind her.

She heard another noise and paused, listening. Something knocked at her boot.

"Aeryn! Move!" John hissed from below her.

"What?" she demanded.

They froze, listening. A steady _thud-thud-thud_ echoed louder and louder.

"Someone's coming!" they managed together.

He pushed at her behind roughly. She began to climb.

.

.


	8. Chapter 8

**EIGHT**

.

"Go!" John hissed more forcefully, even as Aeryn turned and looked up. She reached with her two hands, her weight supported by her boots. She climbed as fast as she dared until she realised her fingers were slightly wet.

"Crichton," she called, grasping at the slimy metal ridges.

"Just go!"

She looked down to see his head was now at her knee height, his boots scrabbling at the ridges to keep him upright. She noticed his boots weren't as thin as hers round the edges and that he was having serious trouble using the small flanges.

"We'll never get up here before a Sidpimtinian catches us up," she breathed.

He looked up at her and, not for the first time, she wondered if his eyes really were that blue or the light was making them appear so pale.

"Keep going - if you see an off-ramp, take it!" he ordered.

Aeryn reached for a good hold but the residue on the metal made her fingers just glance off. She grabbed desperately but flailed. Only her wedged-in boots prevented her from cleaving herself and the human under her from the duct and falling backside-first down the shaft. A rough hand pushed at her back just above her belt and she was propelled into the wall. She tried desperately to get a hold but couldn't get a grip on the slime.

"I can't climb, Crichton!" she hissed. "The walls are wet here!"

There was grumbling from beneath her and then John's hand pushed her knee to one side. She looked down to find him climbing up anyway, threading his arms round her legs to reach the walls. He had given up relying solely on the ridges and seemed to be using the palms of his hands to keep himself up too.

"Move back!" he cried. "Hurry!"

She looked down beyond him, spying what could have been shadows below them.

"Hold still!" John moved his arms, sliding up between her knees and appearing facing her from four inches away.

He slapped his hands against the duct wall behind her. She just looked back at him, watching his face as he appeared to have his full attention on the wall behind her. His hands slid around and then he paused.

"Got one."

"One what?" she asked.

He didn't reply, didn't even look at her. Instead he braced himself and pushed at the panel behind her head. He grunted with the effort and pushed again, before looking at her and shifting his grip. His right hand came up and he edged her face smoothly to one side, holding his hand in a protective cup by her eyes. His left elbow came up and he hammered at the panel with it.

"Come - on - you - god - damned--"

She put a hand up and gripped his elbow, stopping him. She straightened, braced herself, and punched back with her head.

The panel flew inwards and she blinked, shaking her head slightly. He grinned, leaning into her and poking his head over her shoulder through the gap.

"Yahtzee!" he cried, leaning back again and squeezing round her side. His knee came up and he pummelled at it. She felt the panel give behind her. She grabbed hold of his jacket to take her weight and lifted one boot behind her. They pounded the metal in between them.

It dropped away and he grinned. Before her feet slipped. She gasped and clutched at him.

"_Larraaaaaaq!_" came an angry shout from under them.

Aeryn didn't think. She yanked on John's jacket and used his momentum to push them both backwards through the open panel.

.

* * *

.

Rygel flicked the catches free deftly and sneaked the tiny door open. He poked his head in, checking the floor for the rather too familiar boots of guards. When it appeared clear, he swung the hatch open and squeezed himself out.

"Rygel!" came a surprised voice. "How did you--. Oh."

The Hynerian rolled to his feet, looking up at the three humanoids chained to the wall.

"Yotz!" he cursed, kicking himself on the inside.

"I am about to say something I have never considered saying before, and probably never will again," D'Argo said quietly. "But Rygel, I'm actually glad to see you."

Rygel puffed himself up. "Yes, well! That Crichton told me to stay in the Prowler, but I knew you lot were here somewhere."

"So you… decided to come look for us, to save us?" Chiana asked.

He turned slightly to look her up and down. Dishevelled and grumpy, the Nebari was chained by both wrists to a very short master chain running down the wall. Six feet away, Zhaan was sitting cross-legged on the floor, her eyes closed and her peaceful face emanating calm.

"Of course," Rygel replied.

D'Argo, six feet behind Zhaan, snorted with contempt. "You mean you went looking for valuables and stumbled onto our cell," he pointed out.

"Do you want me to help you out of here or not?" Rygel groused.

"Yes," Chiana said quickly. "Zhaan!" she called. "Hey, Zhaan! Rygel's come to rescue us!"

Zhaan's eyes opened. "Little did I know that a little praying would bring a little a miracle," she sighed.

.

* * *

.

The sounds of shouting and small weapons fire echoed past the hole in the duct.

Aeryn kept very still, her head back against the grating, her hands clutching at the right shoulder of John's jacket. He was sprawled over her awkwardly, leaning his weight on his elbows against the grating either side of her head, his gaze up and staring into space as he listened.

The noises stopped. He looked down at her. "Let's go," he managed, pushing himself up and to his feet. She scrambled up, determined not to look as comfortable as she had felt.

"Which way?"

"I don't know, Aeryn - is your PK sense tingling yet? Which way do you think we should go?" he asked seriously.

She thought for a moment, looking around the small, dark room.

"This is a maintenance room," she nodded. "So… there'll be a corridor for the maintenance crew."

"With more pirates down it with large guns?"

"Point taken. We stick to the shafts." She went to the wall and put her hands out, feeling and knocking slightly at the metal walls. "Here," she called softly. "This feels hollow."

"Any idea how far we are from the landing bay?" he asked as he crossed the few feet toward her.

"None."

He pulled his jacket open to reveal the comms unit inside. "Rygel," he said smartly.

Aeryn's eyebrow rose all by itself, John noticed. "He was actually in the Prowler?"

He frowned at her. "He was all I had," he said by way of defence. He cleared his throat. "Rygel! Where are you!"

"_Keep your voice down, Crichton!_" Rygel's voice snapped. "_I'm freeing prisoners. What are you doing, scraping Aeryn's bits up from the grating in the landing bay? Did she have any valuables on her?_"

Aeryn grabbed John's jacket and yanked it toward her, not even registering how close his chin came to cracking into her head.

"He's talking me out of shooting you when this is over!" she hissed down the line.

"_I always prefer it when you two work together_," came Rygel's feathered attempt at crawling, and Aeryn let go of the leather smartly.

John lifted it again, eyeing the former Peacekeeper. "Where are you now, Sparky?"

"_We're opening the locks on the door. You two need to get your arses back to the Prowler_."

"There's no way we can all fit in Aeryn's ship," John replied. "You'll have to borrow one of their cargo drones."

"_I like the way you think_," Rygel responded. "_You two get to the Prowler, get them distracted. D'Argo will get us to the cargo bay and we'll snurch what we can find._"

"Good plan, Captain Hilts. Last ones back on Moya pay for that last water haul." John dropped the jacket and nodded at Aeryn. "See? Sometimes Rygel's treasure hunting lust pays off."

"When it isn't piling deeper dren on us," Aeryn observed. She looked around. "So we still don't know which way goes back to the landing bay."

"True," John acceded. He licked a finger, sticking it up in the air suddenly.

Aeryn watched avidly. "Well?"

"Pointy Finger Of Guestimation says… that way," he smiled, heading to the far wall.

Aeryn sighed and followed him over.

.

* * *

.

Second Rou'Mou crouched over the hatchway, hissing angrily to herself. She lifted her wrist, speaking to the tiny comms unit on the inside.

"Captain," she snapped. "They are not coming this way. They must have found some other exit."

"_Impossible!_" came the slightly crackly reply. "_I saw them in the duct! It only goes up and down, how could they have left it?_"

"Perhaps they are more resourceful than they look," Rou'Mou sneered. "They _are_ supposed to be Special Commando Peacekeepers."

"_Acknowledged._" There was a pause. "_Suggestions?_"

"Withdraw to the landing bay. They can crawl all over the ship as much as they please, but they won't be able to leave," she judged.

"_Excellent. Do it._"

Rou'Mou stood and looked at the three Sidpimtinians watching her with well-earned respect.

"You heard the Captain," she said sharply. "Have all armed crew get the landing bay, and the PK Prowler. They will _not_ get aboard."

"Yes sir!" they chorused, turning and hurrying away.

Rou'Mou turned back to the duct thoughtfully.

"Up… or down…" she mused. "Pajjet, you are so narrow-minded. When you can't go up or down, you go… _sideways_."

She crouched and then crawled through the hatch, brandishing her small gun as she began to hustle along the duct.

.

* * *

.

"Where do you think we are?" Aeryn whispered hoarsely. She looked up even as she inched down the vertical shaft, her fingers and boots wedged in each tiny flange on her travels.

"Hollywood and Vine?" John hazarded, looking down between his knees at her. "I thought we agreed to follow this till it came out somewhere?"

"We did," she grunted, shuffling down. "But I'm just wondering what this duct is used for. They wouldn't have useless empty ducts laid out all over the ship, would they?"

John paused. He looked up. "Um. Aeryn?"

"What?"

"Do they have a word for 'lampshading' in Sebacean?" he asked lightly.

She paused and then her head snapped up quickly. She heard the rumble, felt the vibration through her fingers and feet.

"Hold on!" John called. He pressed his hands against the tunnel walls as hard as he could.

"Oh - dreeeeeeeeeen!" Aeryn called, as gallons and gallons of icy liquid filled the duct.

They bowed their heads away from the flow. It pounded down, heavier and heavier. John felt his hands slipping. Aeryn's hair matted around her face, pointing at the exit. It went on and on, Aeryn counting and reaching one hundred before she managed to open her eyes, the torrent beginning to weaken.

She heard John spitting and blowing something from his mouth and shook her head quickly. The liquid was gone, chasing itself down the shaft below them. She tossed her head up to slap her sopping went hair over the back of her head, blowing chilly watery blobs from her own mouth.

"Keep flushing!" John crowed maliciously, "It's a long way to Texas!" He paused, blowing and hissing his mouth free of whatever it had been. "Was that sewage?"

She coughed and spat out a tiny chewy blob. "That wasn't waste," she managed.

"I hope not," he grumbled, shaking his head free of the cool water.

"I think it was some kind of machine fluid," she added.

There was a squeak and she looked up fearfully.

"Uh - is anyone else having a friction malfunction?" John asked nervously.

"No. My fingers are--"

Another shriek of metal and the human was careening down the wall. John gave a frustrated cry. He slapped his hands and boots to the side walls in desperation.

The back of his outstretched calves smacked into Aeryn's forearms, swiping them clear of the walls. She gasped and slapped them back in place. John was still moving down until he whammed into her ankles with the back of his knees. His head slammed into the wall behind him and he put his hands out quickly. He struggled to get traction, the soles of both boots braced against the same back wall behind Aeryn.

"Great, well done, Crichton," she tutted.

"Oh come on - I'm not Spider-Man!" he protested. He shook his head again, more water flicking around the shaft. He rested his head back, thinking.

She looked down at him with annoyance on her face. "I think I liked the slide more," she observed.

He closed his eyes. "Look," he sighed. "We have no idea how long this shaft is, right?"

She watched his head, two feet below hers, before she noticed his arms were shaking with exertion. She swallowed nervously.

"No."

"And we're only going down, right?"

"Apparently," she nodded.

"Well I say we hammer another hole in the wall and get out," he reasoned, opening his eyes. "How long can you keep climbing? Cos I'm sorry but I'm getting to the point where my fingers don't straighten any more."

She sighed and he looked up at her. She let her head tilt, her hair dripping on him admirably.

"Agreed," she allowed. "I could carry on for a while, but I can't have you trying to push me down this hole again."

"Well I am sorry," he retorted. "Being able to climb El Capitan was not part of the IASA training programme."

"Get up," she replied, as if he hadn't spoken. "You need to take your own weight so we can find a hollow sounding panel."

.

* * *

.

Rou'Mou fastened the gun in the strapping across her front. She cocked her head, listening to the slight rumble of alien voices from somewhere far above her in the duct.

"Pajjet, you waste of space," she growled. "I should have taken command myself."

She took a deep breath and placed her slightly webbed hands on the side walls, lifting herself up effortlessly. She put her thin soled boots to the sides and began to shift up in short, controlled, terribly efficient bursts.

She made very good time.

.

.


	9. Chapter 9

**NINE**

.

D'Argo stood over the insensate guard to the cell, hissing at him before bending and taking back his Qualta blade.

"Let's go," Chiana said eagerly, clapping a hand on his back as she passed him.

"Wait," Zhaan hissed. "There will be others. And when these wake up, they will know we are free. We must go carefully."

"Well I'm not waiting around here," Rygel piped up from knee-height. "I say we get to the cargo bay and, like Crichton said, steal us some transport."

"I'm with Frog Lips," Chiana nodded.

"It does seem the best thing to do right now," D'Argo said to the Delvian, almost apologetically.

"What about John and Aeryn?" she protested.

"They have the Prowler waiting for them," Rygel urged. "Don't believe me? Fine!" He lifted the front of his robe, tapping the comms unit. "Crichton! Human, are you there?"

There was a long pause.

"Crichton! Can you hear me, you cloth-eared excuse for a male?"

"_Not now, Buckwheat,_" came the panted reply, and Rygel turned to look up at Zhaan.

"John! I'm relieved to hear your voice. Is Aeryn with you?" Zhaan asked quickly, bending to Rygel's height.

"_I'm here, Zhaan_," the former Peacekeeper's voice replied. "_Where are you?_"

"We are out of the detention cell - we're going to head to the cargo bay and borrow a ship," she said gratefully. "But can you get back to your Prowler?"

"_We'll do our best_," John replied, but was interrupted by Aeryn.

"_We will get there_." There was a pause. "_Get to the cargo bay. Whatever happens, just go_," she ordered.

"Agreed," D'Argo cut in, and Rygel let the comms unit fold back under his robes.

"Right then. Which way to the cargo bay?" he asked imperiously.

The four of them blinked at each other in silence. Chiana put a hand up slowly. They looked at her.

"Follow the corridor?" she guessed. "They've got to have a map somewhere, right? Or, or, or a sign, or something?"

"Let's go," D'Argo nodded, pushing past her and out of the door.

.

* * *

.

"Ok?" Aeryn asked.

John pulled his head back from over her shoulder, looking at her. "No. This whole thing is solid," he groused.

"Perfect. Well we'll just have to--"

She paused and looked up. John bobbed back to avoid being cracked in the face with her chin. He was about to ask but then he heard it too.

"Oh no," he moaned, looking up. "Here comes the rain again, raining on my head like a big-ass, icy-cold memory."

He shifted up the wall quickly and his t-shirt bumped into Aeryn's nose.

"Ow! Watch out!"

"Shut up!" he cried as the first drops started to fall.

He pushed into her, forcing her back against the wall. His large leather jacket enveloped her head and she felt something warm resting on her hair. She thrust her manacled hands through his right arm and locked the two bodies together, taking a deep breath.

The crash of near-freezing liquid broke somewhere above her but she was mostly shielded. She heard the roar of movement, felt the icy blast down her arms, waited impatiently for it to recede.

It did and she let her breath out, grateful for the warming leather around her and heat source now pressed firmly against the top of her head. She sucked in air, making sure neither of her boots moved against the wall. Slowly she let go of his arm, aware she had been yanking it into her side. He moved it back and the jacket fell to one side as if it too were relieved it was over.

But although the heavy Peacekeeper Captain's jacket opened up so they could breathe, his face did not lift from her head. Suddenly she didn't want it to. She leaned on his t-shirt more heavily, calming herself and regaining control of her wits and muscles. The hot material under her cheek began to buck and heave, and she heard him laughing.

She couldn't help it; she chuckled.

Until there was a squeak and he shot down two feet.

She gasped. Without thinking she transferred all her weight to her boots, firmly wedged in the ridges. She shot her arms out under his right one again to bolster him. His hand went to the side of her leather waistcoat, holding on. His other hand went out to the duct wall.

"I'm ok," he panted, relieved. "I've got my feet right."

She swallowed, nodding, and they shared a long look from three inches away.

"At least we're not being shot at," she blew out on a relieved sigh.

"True," he admitted with a giddy smile. "Must be my lucky day."

There was another squeak and he dropped again, the top of his head almost banging into her chin.

"Or not!" he corrected.

She cleared her throat, the heat from his face very close to her collarbone. "Can we get out of here now?" she managed politely.

"Down then."

"Down," she nodded.

Neither of them moved.

"Go on then," he sniffed.

"You first."

"Aeryn, I'm kinda stuck here. You'll have to climb down around me."

"Crichton… Oh frell it," she snapped. "Fine. Just don't move."

"I'll try not to."

Another squeak and he dipped a few inches. He fell backwards but she gripped his arm, pulling him back. He lost his balance and his cheek and nose went straight into the deep open V of her green top.

"Yup," he mumbled, his voice obscured by parts of her anatomy he dreamed about at night, "definitely one of my lucky days."

"Can you move?" she asked, professional as always, and he wondered whether she could actually feel his smile against her skin.

"There's '_can_' and there's '_don't want to_'," he breathed, completely and totally unaware of the effect the warmth and movement of his face against her front was having on her heart rate. "Right now, '_don't want to_' is kicking '_can_'s ass royally."

He waited for the slap. It didn't come. He thought about turning his face. She moved first. Her hand went into the hair at the back of his head. He grinned until she pulled his head back with a tiny yank that promised much pain. She peered down at him. Her mouth opened, then hesitated. He blinked perfectly clear blue eyes and she cleared her throat.

"Can you move?" she asked again simply, strangely lacking in anger.

"Aeryn, look at my feet. I'm one squeak away from the Jurassic Park watersplash. You, on the other hand, have smaller feet and better climbing hands. You go first."

She let go of his head. "I can't. You've got your arm round my leg."

"Well one more slip and I'll be in your Uncharted Territories. Not that I mind, and it would seriously flip this from one of my lucky days into jackpot territory, but I don't think this is really the time or place," he smirked.

She rolled her eyes and started moving her arms around him, finding the walls. "Once we're somewhere solid you are getting these heavy things off me," she huffed.

"Clothes?"

"Manacles," she said clearly, then looked at him to confirm her suspicion that he was teasing her again.

"Oh come on, Aeryn," he grinned. "You have fun sliding down water chutes. I have fun with _Carry On_ jokes. It's what I do when it's all I can get."

"I'll add this to the number of times I have no idea what you're talking about," she sighed, but he noticed she looked more sad than irritated. "Don't move. I'll go first."

.

* * *

.

Rygel ducked under the lip of the metal hatch and stuck his head out cautiously. He scanned the wide open space of the cargo bay, watching for any sign of movement. When he saw none, he pulled back inside and looked up.

"No-one there," he whispered at Chiana. "We might be lucky."

"We might be walking into a trap," D'Argo breathed from behind her. "Are you sure there's no-one out there?"

"Fine. I'll go and get us a cargo ship. You stand here with your mivonks in your hands while I escape." The little Hynerian turned and pushed through the hatchway, disappearing through quickly.

Chiana tutted. "Great! How are _we_ supposed to get through?"

Zhaan came forward, putting her hand on the wall and leaning up. "Is this a window?" she asked, reaching up and pushing.

"It's transparent," D'Argo agreed. He gently moved her out of the way and put his face closer to it. "But we cannot break it. It's designed to withstand the vacuum of space."

"Frell!" Chiana spat, rocking on her heels as she considered her boots. "Now what?"

"Let's just… calm down and think," Zhaan advised.

Chiana's head tilted. "Hey… D'Argo?" she asked quietly.

"What is it?" he demanded, searching the small room as thoroughly as he could.

"What's under this floor?"

D'Argo and Zhaan looked down at the grating, then at each other. Then knelt and began to tug at the heavy metal plates.

.

* * *

.

Aeryn kicked for the fifth time and the plate shot off the hatch. She scooted out and stood, looking around quickly.

"It's clear," she urged quietly, but her voice was lost in the noise of John's wet leather squeaking out of the hole after her.

"Are they shooting at us yet?" he asked quickly, getting to his feet and flapping his jacket out as if to dry it.

"There's no-one here," Aeryn observed. "We seem safe enough for now, but how the frell are we supposed to find my ship?"

John put a hand on her shoulder and she looked at him. She noticed he was looking past her and then his free hand came up and pointed. She turned back round and looked up, before grinning in relief.

"Is it me, or does that sign with the squiggles on it also have a picture of a spaceship?" he smiled. "You think it's pointing the way to the landing bay?"

"It's about time something went our way," she nodded, beginning to walk.

"Ho, wait a minute," he called, moving in front of her. "Hands," he instructed.

She lifted her manacles and he stood back, pulling his gun from its snug holster.

"You are not going to shoot them off," she stated in disbelief.

"Why?"

"You have to be the worst shot on any planet with weapons," she tutted.

"Well you can't reach," he pointed out. "Trust me, I'll just--"

"No!" she warned, her hands going far out in front of her, even as he moved back another step and raised the pulse pistol. "John! Don't you--"

He fired.

She tensed all over, her eyes clamped shut, knowing the pain would flood through her limbs any second now.

"There," he said simply, and she felt her wrists moving slightly. "Ok, so they're not _off_, but at least the chain's… Oh, well will you look at that."

She opened one eye experimentally. He had holstered his gun and was now picking delicately at the point where the chains met the thick cuffs. Right in front of her eyes, the left shackle split open and dropped to the floor. She let her shoulders relax, watching him peel and pick at the other shackle bolts. The pin pulled out clean and the manacle dropped close to her boot.

"There, see? You should have trusted me," he winked.

She just stared at him. "How do you know how to--"

"You have to play a lot of _Operation_ as a kid," he said dismissively, tossing the thin pin from him. "Are we ready now?"

"Apparently," she nodded, a small, wondrous smile playing over her lips.

He stopped short, his head tilting in bemused curiosity. "What?"

"Nothing," she smiled, shaking out her wet hair. "Just that sometimes… Forget it."

"What?" he pressed, taking a step toward her.

"Sometimes… sometimes you make me think I know absolutely nothing about the universe after all. There are supposed to be certainties, and yet… When _you're_ around, there aren't any," she managed with difficulty.

He smiled for a long moment. "There's only one certainty," he allowed.

"And… what's that?" she dared, aware of how close he was now standing.

"That there's only one certainty."

She snorted in amusement, she couldn't help it. Her hand came up and pushed lightly at the front of his leathered shoulder.

"Let's find my Prowler."

"Yes sir."

He stepped back, still watching her with that small smile on his face, until she looked away from him and took off down the damp service tunnel.

He rubbed a thumb over his lip before he hurried after her, glad to be in a corridor big enough for him to stand upright. She turned the corner ahead of him and he raced to catch up, stopping short as he edged round the left hand bend.

"There," she said simply, pointing to the double doors closed in front of them. "Landing bay. Easy."

"Ye-ah…" he mused, as they walked up to the controls. She pressed the button neatly. "Except."

"Except what?" she asked as the doors slid open.

"Easy things never are," he shrugged.

She smiled and turned to walk through the door.

"Don't move!" shouted the young male Sidpimtinian with the large gun.

John pushed into Aeryn, knocking her to one side as his hand slammed on the button again. Shots sizzled into the surround and his jacket as the doors closed once more.

"Son of a--!" John paused to open the jacket and look through the burn hole the size of a baseball in the front of the jacket.

"Are you hurt?" Aeryn gasped, pulling him round. She pressed her hands to the side of his t-shirt.

"N-no. Must have caught the side while I was moving," he muttered. "Maybe this _is_ my lucky day."

She kept hold of the side of his jacket and pulled as the doors began to open once more. She pulled at him.

"Let's move!"

.

.


	10. Chapter 10

**TEN**

.

Rygel gasped and flattened himself against a support strut as the noise of weapons fire cracked overhead.

"_Yotz_," he whispered to himself, looking up through the grating. He saw running feet and heard shouting. He waited, not a single muscle moving, until the firing stopped.

"Peacekeepers!" someone was calling. "Think we shot one of them!"

Rygel's eyebrows tore upwards and he bit his lip against swearing out loud. He waited longer, not daring to move, as louder voices appeared directly over him.

"Report," came a snap.

"They came out of the tunnel right outside, sir."

"Which Peacekeeper is wounded?"

"Couldn't see clearly, sir. Definitely heard the shot hit _something_, sir."

"Seal this bay. No-one gets in or out except myself and Second Rou'Mou. Do you understand me?"

"Yes sir!"

The boots directly above Rygel clanged away hurriedly and he waited, staring up at the dark shape hovering above him.

"Second Rou'Mou," snapped the voice. Something quiet buzzed and Rygel strained to listen. "That's not important. The landing bay is sealed, one of the Peacekeepers injured, possibly fatally." The voice paused as something buzzed in reply. "It couldn't be helped. At least you'll get one of them." Another pause. "You think I can about your stupid vendetta? All I want is those two dead and the code to open that Leviathan's doors."

Rygel fumed to himself, casting his eyes around the dark passageway.

"I have the chip Larraq was stupid enough to give me. I'll try that first," the voice added. "If it doesn't work, we blow a hole in the pile of kreetash ship and take whatever we want."

Rygel's lip curled and he turned to survey his secret thoroughfare with intent. He looked up at the grating, watching the feet walk away. He rumbled to himself in anger before scuttling forwards, toward the dark shadow being cast by a transport ship.

.

* * *

.

John yanked his pulse pistol from its holster and shot at the door controls.

"What are you doing?" Aeryn demanded.

"Now they can't open it!"

"Neither can we!"

"Well we weren't getting in _that_ way, were we?"

"Fine." She grasped the shoulder of his jacket and pulled.

They began to run back down the corridor before John skidded to a halt. Aeryn realised he had stopped and halted, turning back to look at him.

"What?" she demanded.

"Where are we running to?" he pointed out. "We need to get in the bay and get your Prowler back."

"And how do we do that?" she asked, hands out in desperation.

John lifted his jacket open to find the comms unit. "Sparky?"

"Crichton!" came the whispered reply. "I'm under the landing bay - that Captain thinks one of you is hurt!"

"Well we're not," John asserted. "Lucky miss. Can you get to a transport?"

"Not right now - all the access hatches have been sealed. I'm right under a frelling transport drone and I can't get out of here!" he hissed.

"Any other bad news?" Aeryn asked.

"Yes, thanks for asking! The others are stuck in some room far behind me and the Captain is about to access that chip you gave him, Crichton. You brainless wellnitz - I told you he'd use it!" Rygel spat.

"Wait - what chip?" Aeryn asked, coming over quickly.

"The one Crichton gave the Captain in exchange for you!" Rygel whispered.

John smiled suddenly. "What does he think he's going to use it for?" he asked.

"He's going to open the doors on Moya!"

John chuckled suddenly, looking at Aeryn. "Once he accesses that chip, he ain't doing a damn thing."

"What did you do?" Aeryn dared, eyeing him in trepidation.

"Ryge, find the others, get them to the landing bay with you. Keep watching those sealed hatches," John instructed.

"Why?" the Hynerian hissed.

"Because they're about to become unsealed. Once they are, get everyone in the cargo drone and make like the wind."

"What about you two?"

"Awww, Buckwheat. Never knew you cared."

"Frell you! We'll leave without you then!"

"I'm not leaving without my Prowler," Aeryn stated flatly.

"And I'm not leaving without you, which is why Rygel is leaving with Zhaan, D'Argo and Chiana in the cargo drone while we get your baby out of stir," John nodded.

"You're going to get shot," Rygel observed.

"Already have. Not dead yet," John replied. "Go. Good luck."

"Don't die," Rygel managed.

John dropped the jacket and caught Aeryn looking at him. "What?"

"Nothing," she said dismissively. "So how do we get my Prowler back?"

"You don't," came a voice from behind her.

Aeryn's eyes narrowed on John's face. His eyes darted over her shoulder to look at something.

"Crap," he sighed.

"Sidpimtinian? Female?" Aeryn guessed.

"Well she's not one of us."

Aeryn turned slowly, hands free of her sides, to find Second Rou'Mou holding a small black weapon on the pair of them.

.

* * *

.

Rygel tapped at his comms unit again. "Zhaan? Where are you, you blue arsed bitch?"

"I'm here, Rygel," she responded with customary patience. "What are you?"

"I'm under the landing bay! Get in here, Crichton's got a plan to release this lockdown. We need to be ready to take off as soon as it goes off."

There was a slight groan from the other end of the line. "Crichton has a plan?" Chiana sighed. "Frell."

"Be quiet, Chiana," Zhaan interrupted. "John will get us out of here."

"He will _not_,' Rygel shot back. "_I_ will get you out of here, and those two can frelling well get that Prowler moving. Now stop talking and find a way to get under the landing bay!"

He broke off the channel and huffed to himself. "Bartantic parasites," he grumbled.

.

* * *

.

"Very clever, going through the tunnel walls like that," Rou'Mou said slowly. "I almost couldn't track where you went. If it weren't for the wet feet marks all over the place, of course."

"Sorry about that. If there'd been a rug, we would have wiped our boots," John shrugged.

"Do you know who I am?" Rou'Mou demanded.

"Uh… That lizard chick from the Flash Gordon cartoons?" John hazarded.

"You've been very focused on getting both of us together," Aeryn observed. "You're not the Captain but you seem to be his brains on this ship. Why are you doing this?"

Rou'Mou straightened abruptly. "You two dead!" she puffed, all of the tiny gills patterned over her head fluttering in anger. "You killed my brother!"

"We did?" John and Aeryn blurted in stereo.

"At the loading dock! You shot him and then injured me as I fired at your transport pod!" she shouted.

"That was you?" John asked. "I _thought_ you were supposed to be a crack shot," he added to Aeryn.

She tutted, turning back to the female. "He was about to shoot us," she pointed out, but her voice told the Sidpimtinian that she really was not interested in dwelling on the past.

"And now _I'm_ about to shoot you - or maybe just your Captain," she smiled evilly.

"You pull that trigger," Aeryn said quietly, "and I promise you I will shoot you in the stomach and leave you to bleed to death."

"That's an idea," Rou'Mou countered.

The females exchanged a long look, fuelled with anger and deceptively silent rage.

"Uh, girls?" John managed, his hands up in surrender. "Can we--"

"He must be worth something to you," Rou'Mou concluded. "So it'll hurt all the more as you watch him die slowly."

Her gaze on Aeryn, her evil smile broad, Rou'Mou's hand moved to her left.

A shot fired.

John blinked.

He stared at Aeryn, his brain processing the image of her more perfectly angry than he had ever seen. Her arms were out straight, her pulse pistol already recharging for another shot.

Aeryn let her gun drop slowly, staring down at the dead Sidpimtinian. "Whoops," she allowed slowly, and if sarcasm had been paint she would have had enough to coat Moya, "I missed."

"Holy _crap_, Aeryn!" John cried.

She turned to look at him. "What? Now she won't be shooting us or telling her Captain what she overheard about you and your chip," she said pointedly.

"Great," John cried, blowing out a huge huff in exasperation. "So can we find a way to get your ship back now?"

"Yes," she said simply, holstering her gun. "What exactly will this chip do when he tries to use it?"

"Well Pilot said it would - _whoa_," he grunted, his left leg giving suddenly. He stumbled, trying to regain his balance. He failed and crashed to the floor on his hands and knees.

"Crichton?" she worried, stepping closer and grabbing at his shoulder. "Crichton! What is it?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "It _hurts,_" he gasped suddenly.

She pushed him round onto his backside and sat him up, pulling open his jacket. She opened her mouth, then snapped her teeth shut quickly. She pushed him back and he was falling to the floor in pain.

"That _bitch_," she snarled, eyeing the hole in the side of his t-shirt, currently leaking blood.

"Hey - you got her," he grunted.

"Shut up," she ordered. She lifted the shirt and pulled it clear of the wound, leaning closer to inspect it. "Energy weapon, small dispersal pattern, low setting," she concluded. "She really did want you to die slowly."

"Thanks," he wheezed.

She sat back on her heels, thinking. "Does human blood clot?"

"Normally."

"Good." She ripped at the damaged black t-shirt, pulling the lower half off and folding it over and over. "This will hurt."

"It already -- _gaaah!_"

She pressed the pad over the hole, staunching the trickle of blood and leaning on it. She unzipped a tiny pocket in her leather waistcoat and produced a ball of what looked like black twine.

"That's a - that's a Bat-belt?" John whimpered.

"I don't keep animals in it, no," she said dismissively. "Keep still." She shook the ball out and grasped one end in her teeth. She pushed her other hand and the other end under his back, pulling her hand free to reach for it from the other side. She wound it round him before pushing it under again for another pass.

"One day," he grunted, "I want to _not_ be the one who gets hurt."

"Then stay on Moya next time," she responded evenly, pulling the cord tight and letting go of the pad.

"_Ak!_ Fine," he wheezed. "Next time you - you get yourself rescued without me."

"Some rescue. I seem to be saving _you_ at every turn."

"It was going really - really well… till…"

"Until?" she prompted, tying the end off with a sharp tug. He winced and grunted in pain.

"Till… it wasn't," he managed, his voice a growled whimper.

She sat back on her heels. "Right. Well, we need to get you up and back to the landing bay. What is this chip going to do?"

"Pilot says--" John managed, pushing at the floor to try and sit up, "Pilot says it will fry certain systems - everything that needs a command code."

"And how does he know this?"

"We - we talked about security restrictions and - ouch - and viruses that attach themselves to - ouch ouch ouch," he grunted breathlessly as Aeryn helped him to his feet, "attach themselves to security clearance requests."

"Right," she allowed, clearly lost. "How long will this thing take to work?" She hefted his left arm over her shoulders, taking some of his weight. They stumbled forwards clumsily.

"No idea. Don't even know when he's going use it," he croaked, putting his right hand against the wall to steady himself. "Hey!" he called, knocking at the metal abruptly, "now would be a good time!"

They heard a loud hydraulic hiss and a door releasing.

"Crichton!" came a tinny voice.

Aeryn turned him round, pushing him to lean against the wall. She flicked his jacket open. "Rygel?" she asked.

"The doors have opened! That chip worked! Hurry - there are pirates running all over the place! It's like the Royal Hynerian Zoo in here!"

"Get in the transport - are the others with you?"

"They're close! I'm getting in the cargo drone and get the yotz out of here!"

"Always trust - trust Sparky to leave - leave first," John panted.

"You wait for the others, Rygel!" Aeryn commanded. "Don't make me shoot you when I get back there."

"Listen to her, Buckwheat - she's already shot - shot half the ship so far," John chipped in.

The channel was cut and Aeryn let go of John's jacket. "Right then," she said, "Come on, look alive. We have to get to my Prowler."

"Easy," he nodded, but his face was scrunched up in either pain or reluctance. She hefted him off the wall and they turned to make it back to the landing bay. "I feel like a yo-yo," he grunted. "Backwards and forwards, backwards and--"

"Don't move!" a voice shouted.

"Oh you have _got_ to be kidding me!" John cried in earnest, as the four Sidpimtinians spread out across the far doorway to the landing bay.

Aeryn sighed and looked at him from a few inches away. "I don't know about you," she asserted, "but these people _really_ are starting to annoy me."

.

.


	11. Chapter 11

**ELEVEN**

.

Rygel watched the Sidpimtinians race out of the landing bay, weapons drawn. He chuckled evilly and waved a hand over his shoulder.

"They're gone - let's go!"

He raced out faster than the three followers had ever seen him move, scuttling across the open landing bay and leaping at the ramp to the cargo drone as if it were made of currency itself.

Zhaan felt Chiana push past her and the Nebari was off at a run, too. D'Argo nudged Zhaan's shoulder forward and they hurried to the transport sitting on the grating.

D'Argo was the last up the ramp, pulling the stairs up and flinging them inside to slam the door. It sealed and he turned to find Chiana and the Hynerian squabbling over the controls. He strode up and simply swept them both aside.

"Both of you - get out of my way," he snapped. "I will pilot this thing."

"Like frell you will," Rygel countered. "Do you even know how to start the engines?"

D'Argo glared at him before turning to look at the controls. "How hard can it be?" he blustered.

.

* * *

.

Aeryn and John stared at the four Sidpimtinians watching them with their guns trained on them.

"Not such a lucky day after all," Aeryn observed.

She looked back at the human from mere inches away. He blinked at her and in the same instant both aliens drew pulse pistols.

Four shots and the pirates were on the ground, holes in their fronts smoking slightly.

"Then again, you have said before that you make your own luck," she nodded.

She hoisted him from the wall and he put his arm over her shoulder, trying to make his feet work as she turned them to walk.

"How many more?" he wheezed.

"Pirates? No idea," she said promptly. She kept her pistol up as they shuffled along the corridor toward the landing bay.

"Gotta be more," he grunted. "Gotta be."

"Shut up, Crichton," she ordered, shouldering more of his weight. "Just keep walking."

"Gotta be," he breathed painfully.

"Then we'll shoot _them_, too," she asserted.

"You're confident."

"Determined. Besides, you're not so useless."

"Really? Thought I was the worst shot ever?"

"I'd rather have you in a firefight than Rygel."

"Or D'Argo?"

"Or Zhaan."

"Or Chiana?"

"Or anyone," she allowed. She snapped her mouth shut quickly, re-grouping. "Anyone on Moya."

John said nothing. But he smiled.

They rounded the corner of the corridor to find the doors to the landing bay open and no-one inside.

"Too easy," John grunted, but she ignored him, making for the Prowler just thirty feet away. Beyond stood a transport and she could see figures moving about inside.

"Looks like the others are leaving too," she nodded.

"Good," John managed. "Prowler."

"Stop right there!" shouted a voice.

"Awww - _shoot_ 'em!" John cried in frustration. "Whoever it is, just shoot 'em!"

Captain Pajjet stepped out from behind the tail end of the cargo ship slowly, his gun trained on them both.

"Now then," he said evenly. "I am going to shoot you two and then blow a large hole in your living ship. After I've roasted that lying Pilot over an open flame, I am going to take whatever there is of value from the ship before setting fire to her. And all the while, I shall be smiling," he stated clearly.

Aeryn took a breath but John's hand turned and gripped her shoulder. "Don't," he warned.

"No, don't," Pajjet nodded. "There is no way you could shoot me before I get at least one of you." He straightened up, smiling very broadly. "This is going to be a very, _very_ good day."

"Just shoot us, don't gloat us to death," John sighed. "Can you do it soon? I think ah'm gonna fall over," he added, and Aeryn heard the slur to his words.

"Gladly," Pajjet smiled, raising the gun a little higher. "This is going to be so enjoyable."

He straightened his arm. Aeryn stiffened, her arm around John's side pulling him in slightly. John concentrated on not falling down where he stood. Pajjet aimed.

And then the engines of the cargo transport behind him roared into life. Splatters of unburnt fuel around the jet ignited. They burst into a huge ball of flame.

Pajjet was engulfed.

Aeryn was stunned.

John was sliding to the floor.

She holstered her gun and grabbed at him with both hands, keeping him on his feet as the transport began to lift off the ground.

"They just barbecued the sum'bitch!" John giggled insanely, his strength and command over his ability to speak clearly obviously gone. "That was D'Argo, right? He did that, right?"

"Come on!" she called over the noise of the engines, half walking, half dragging him to the Prowler. "They're about to leave and they need to open the landing bay doors to space to do it."

She shoved him at the side of the ship and he gripped it to stay upright. A quick scramble up and release of the hatch later and she was leaning over from the pilot's seat, helping him haul himself up into the vessel.

The landing bay doors began to open, the atmosphere rushing out into space. She yanked John into the Prowler, not caring where he landed. She rammed the hatch shut and sat back, hearing the seals pressurise and flipping switches to make the craft start its warm-up routine.

She caught sight of the transport leaving the bay and smiled, beginning to strap herself into the seat. There was a muffled noise behind her and she turned to see the passenger seat.

The human's head was jammed between the seat and the panel next to it, his hands struggling to get a grip on a chair that had no arms, and his knees bent to one side up against the back of her pilot's chair.

"Little help?" he managed.

.

* * *

.

Rygel sat back from the long table, burping and groaning in a very satisfied manner. "Now that," he said grandly, "was the good stuff."

"Even I am impressed," D'Argo put in. "With both the food and how you managed to get the landing bay doors open on that ship." He picked up another brightly coloured item and popped it into his mouth.

"Ah well," Rygel said smugly, "I have many skills you don't know about."

"You mean it was luck," Chiana grinned, making Zhaan smile.

"Well however he did it, he did it," she said wisely. "And we have adopted a Sidpimtinian transport ship."

"Most useful," D'Argo nodded. "It can be kept as a back-up or simply sold."

"I vote we keep it," Aeryn said, still chewing. "Just in case we do need a back-up."

"Agreed," D'Argo said. "I still think Pilot did an excellent job loading that chip with that destroyer code."

"Crichton told him to do it," Chiana pointed out faithfully.

"True. So how many pirates were left on that ship before we initiated starburst?" D'Argo asked.

"No idea," Aeryn shrugged. "There must have been quite a few - the Captain and his Second are dead, but those ships normally have a crew of around a hundred. Assuming someone has taken charge, they'll already be flying off to steal more loot."

"Hmm," Rygel pondered, and the table looked at him. "What?"

"Perhaps you should have stayed aboard," Chiana offered. "You could have been the Captain, snurching whatever you wanted."

"But I would have had to cut it amongst all of us," he grumped. "Nope, I like Moya much better."

"Of course you do - no-one here cares as much about you or valuables as you do," Aeryn smiled sweetly.

"Watch it, wench. I'll tell your pet human you made him that dental medic appointment on Sslaj," he threatened.

Aeryn simply smiled dismissively, picking up her drink.

D'Argo shook his head at them, then paused, looking at the small brown cube in his hands. "What is this?" he asked suspiciously, sniffing it.

"No-one knows," Aeryn shrugged. "Crichton said to get some from that commerce planet where I got the plants, so we did. What does it taste like?"

D'Argo bit off a small corner. "It's… pleasing," he managed carefully. He took another bite, then pushed all of it into his mouth. "_Very_ pleasing."

"He thought it might have been something called chark-let," Aeryn offered. "Apparently it's much sought after on his world."

"And with good reason," D'Argo nodded, reaching for another cube. "If it is anything like this, then I think huge wars would be fought over the recipe."

"About Crichton," Chiana said, watching Rygel reach out and steal two lumps of 'chark-let', "how is he?"

"He is resting," Zhaan said with a smile. "He wasn't actually hurt too badly internally. It seems humans don't have too many essential organs where he was hit; he was lucky. He'll be fine in a few solar days."

"I told him it wasn't serious," Aeryn said with a snort. "Men. They nick a finger and think they're dying."

Chiana giggled and Zhaan allowed herself a small chuckle. But Aeryn caught D'Argo watching her.

"Human men," she amended. "Not _all_ men. Obviously."

"Obviously," D'Argo echoed, but then he smiled. "He should have some of this chark-let. It will lift his spirits," he said decisively.

"The last thing he needs is your energy and thumping great enthusiasm when he's trying to rest," Aeryn observed rather scathingly.

"Then _you_ take it to him," Rygel said, just the right side of ingratiating. Aeryn spared him a glance, then picked up the clear square plate the pile of brown cubes was occupying.

"I think I will. Irritating and inane as his conversation is, talking to him is still more enjoyable than sitting with you, _Dominar_," she said deliberately, making the Hynerian puff himself up. She let herself smile slightly and Rygel realised she was not entirely serious.

She got up from the table, nodding to D'Argo and Zhaan before walking out of the room.

"That'll lift his spirits," Chiana chuckled wickedly. "Hey, Frog Lips - pass me the raslak."

.

* * *

.

Aeryn stopped outside the door, looking through one of the holes.

"Crichton?" she asked. "Are you sleeping?"

"No," came a pre-occupied voice.

She pressed the opener and waited for the door to fan aside, walking in. She found the human propped up in bed against the wall, his knees raised under the blankets and a notebook on them. She ignored the fact that he was lacking a t-shirt and pressed the door button to close it. She wandered over slowly, the plate in her hand.

"Are you busy?" she asked carefully.

"Not really," he mused, his eyes and entire focus on his hand as it moved a small stick over the open notebook resting against his knee.

"Right. Well… I'll just leave you this and go," she said quietly, sensing she was rather superfluous.

"What is it?" he asked, his eyes not leaving his hard working hand.

"It's the brown foodstuff you had me buy on that commerce planet," she said, intrigued as to what he could be doing with the small book. "That stuff you thought might be chark-let."

His hand paused and he looked up. "Chocolate?"

She shrugged. "D'Argo thinks it's excellent. He thinks if it is indeed your chark-let then people must fight over it on your world."

John smiled suddenly. His right hand stopped and he let his knees slip down slightly. Her eyes were drawn to the large silver medical patch over his side before she managed to look away.

"Well bring it here, woman, I can't move so fast right now," he teased.

A single eyebrow raised but she moved to the side of the bed with the plate. He shifted up slightly and then looked at the empty half meaningfully.

"What happened to your t-shirt?"

"Well, it's an interesting story," he allowed, keeping his eyes on the blanket. "This lizard girl shot it, and then this Sebacean tore it into strips. Now I'll have to see if there are any other hidden caches of PK uniforms somewhere around Moya."

"You have your astro-nut's white one somewhere," she pointed out.

"Somewhere. God knows where it's got to." He nodded at the bed. "You can sit. I don't got cooties."

She allowed herself a small smile and sat, raising the plate at him. He picked up a piece in his free hand, smelling it.

"It doesn't smell like chocolate," he grumped.

"Taste it."

He licked it suspiciously and Aeryn snorted in amusement. He glanced at her before biting the corner off.

"That's exactly what D'Argo did," she smiled. "And then he said--"

"Sweet mother of Abraham Lincoln," John interrupted. "It's just like chocolate!" He flung the rest of the cube in his mouth with glee. She watched him roll it round his mouth, surprised by the look of pure joy on him.

"Is it that good?"

"Try it," he said eagerly, picking up a piece and aiming for her mouth. She hesitated but he waved it under her nose. She opened her mouth and he pushed it all inside.

She froze for a long moment. She chewed down, her frown turning from concerned to angry. John paused, worried as to her reaction.

"Frell me dead," she growled. "This is wonderful!"

His face cleared as the look of dark anger on her face melted into outrage, presumably at not having tasted it before.

"Then knock yourself out," he said, indicating the plate in her hand, "before Rygel gets his dirty mits on it."

She looked at the plate, then began to smile. It faded as she looked past the plate to his knee, and the notebook.

"What's that?" she managed round the goo in her mouth.

"Oh - ah - nothing," he said quickly, closing the book. But she turned and put the plate on the side table, reaching over and taking the notebook from him. He let it go, less willing to have it torn than he was to be found out.

She opened the notebook out properly, her eyes running over all the strange little squiggles and doodles within. She studied the sketch of herself. "It's… me," she blinked, confused. "And… the pirate vessel?"

"It's just a record of stuff I think is important," he shrugged.

"Does my nose really look like that?" she asked, turning the book slightly to peer at the picture. "Why am I standing over something with a gun in my hands?"

"You shot that female pirate girl," he reminded her. "Right the same moment she shot me."

"And that's important because?"

"Well… you looked so cool doing it," he allowed. She looked up from the book at him, but he was looking at the blankets over his knees. "Pass the chocolate."

She reached behind her and picked up the plate. She set it on the bed between them and continued to flip through the book.

"So - ah - when I feel like getting out of bed, you owe me," he said bravely.

"Owe you what?" she inquired, taking some chocolate from the plate.

"An attitude stabiliser from your Prowler."

"I do not," she snorted.

"You do too - you promised me you'd let me have it _and_ help me fit it."

"I don't remember saying that, Crichton. You've gone fahrbot on chark-let."

"No, outside the dentists' - you promised me."

"You're mistaken," she said primly, biting the chocolate cube.

Crichton huffed slightly, and she noticed his eyes turn resigned as he considered his hands. Suddenly he looked as though a hundred tiny things were about to break his back, and she had an abrupt stab of guilt.

"Ok," she said quietly. "Yes, I remember promising you."

He looked at her steadily. "Thank you," he replied, and she found his voice soft and warm.

"For what?"

"For admitting that I might be right for a change."

"You're not usually."

"Hence 'for a change'."

"Fix my nose."

"What?"

"Fix my nose," she commanded, handing the book back to him. "It's not like that."

"Yes it is!"

"It's huge."

"No it's not, it's regal," he said defensively, and she paused, surprised. "Any Roman emperor worth his salt would _kill_ for a nose like yours."

"Then I'd better make sure we get more weapons the next time we're on a commerce planet," she said firmly.

John looked at her and laughed. She pushed at his shoulder, tapping the book.

"What's that?" she asked.

"Give me chocolate and I'll tell you."

"I'm not your slave," she tutted, but her tone was less angry and more playful than he had expected.

"Then why did you bring it to my room?"

"Just explain that drawing of a star system, human."

"And then I get chocolate?"

"And then I promise not to shoot you."

"And _then_ I get chocolate?"

"Ok… and _then_ you get chocolate."

"My lucky day."

.

**FIN**

.

* * *

_**And that's a wrap - hope you enjoyed some of it.**_

_**Thanks to everyone who read it and left reviews - I am very much obliged and have read each one about ten times. :)**_


End file.
